Archive for August 18th, 2010

Hey Peoples,

This week has been VERY trying for me emotionally, physically, and… hair-ally?  We’ve almost completed the moving process, which involved A LOT of sweating, lifting, and losing stuff…

Like losing my beloved spray bottle.

I don’t know how this happened.  I honestly do not know.  I mean, my elderly aunts, grandma, mom, and I were all sitting around, packing things in boxes, shoving them in car trunks, and complaining about the heat.  It was your typical midsummer night’s NIGHTMARE here in Georgia and we were none to happy to be living it.  We take everything over to the new house, unpack, and put EVERYTHING in it’s rightful place; the food is in the kitchen, the TV is in the living room, my bed is in my room, et cetera, et cetera…

But somehow, my spray bottle just didn’t make it.  And I didn’t find this out at a decent time of day, oh no, because that would make life all too simple, now wouldn’t it?

I figured it out at 11:15 PM, after I’d already taken my hair down and broken out my Bee Mine Bee Hold Curly Butter in hopes of having extra sexy hair for once this week.  #failure  I looked like Buckwheat and was tearing my new place UP trying to find something that, in my mom’s words, “is less than a dollar at Wal-Mart”.  Then she proceeded to make a 10-10-3-2-1 reference that I refuse to repeat.

So, three headbands and a pair of orange “Jesus Sandals” later, I took the hint and went down to Wal-Mart with two dollars in my pocket and a dream between my ears: a dream that one day (preferably tomorrow), I would have a big, sexy, luxurious braid-n-curl of doom.  But alas, this is but the beginning of the journey.

So I walk into Wal-Mart in jeans, a t-shirt, and a fairly juicy-tabulous puff accented with two silver headbands, and all I want is a spray bottle.  I’m ignoring every guy I see (and I saw some cuties) in hot pursuit of my saving grace: a neon colored, barely functioning spray bottle.  Y’all, when I say I had that bottle in my hand in seconds, please know that I am NOT exaggerating.

The problem came when I got to the check-out line… the ONLY one that was open in the entire store.

The creepy man in front of me had a buggy FULL of groceries and felt the need to smile at me repeatedly; the creepy man behind me was far too close for my comfort and I’m absolutely positive that he forgot to brush that morning… and several mornings before that.


So I’m in line, with a bit of an attitude, waiting on Mr. Smiley in front of me to pay for his $199.81 (I kid you not) worth of midnight groceries when Sir-Stinks-A-Lot behind me does the unthinkable:

*in the most condescending voice ever* “Aye girl, when’s the last time you’ve seen a salon?”

Mr. Smiley froze, awkward smile in full effect, while the teenage dream (not) behind Sir-Stinks-A-Lot nearly chokes on his gum and I turn around after deciding, in that moment, that I had had just about enough that day.

“Gee, I don’t know… perhaps it was around the same time that you saw a toothbrush… NOW BACK UP.  You are too stinky to be standing so close to civilized people!”

Yeah, I said it.  Am I tall enough to be talking to random people like that?  Maybe not… but all 132 pounds, 5 feet, and 2 inches of me meant it.  F his whole stinky life.

Teen Dream nearly pisses himself laughing, Mr. Smiley’s jaw hits the floor, and Sir-Stinks-A-Lot shuts his mouth (thank God).  I know this is wrong, but it felt sssoooo incredibly good to take out my frustrations on a perfectly deserving person.  I mean, seriously, that junk is better than sex.  You guys should try it.

The best part of the situation came 3 minutes later when I left Wal-Mart with my spray bottle, a small bag of Reece’s Pieces, and lot of stress off my back.

Peace, Love, and Spray Bottle Drama,



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