I was at the salon, trying to go from looking like a poodle to a human being when the hair dresser turns to me with an insect in her hand. She smiled and said nothing. What was she showing me? Was the salon infested and this was some kind of weird "salon humor."
"You have lice, strange because women who dye their hair usually don't get infested"
"Lice, that's a lice?" You're telling me I have lice and on top of that you're saying I'm not a real blonde! BITCH! What the fuck is the singular word for lice? lie? No it's Louse, I found out after much reseach and even considering spraying my head with kerosene and lighting it on fire. Who needs hair? By the way Louse is the perfect name. They should be called louses. And what's a nit? Do I really need to know? Did I have them in my hair? YES.
Cut to a neurotic woman going insane in the shampoo isle at Walgreens, buying every product ever made for lice treatment. Treatment? I want extermination. It says here I have to wash everything that could've come in contact with the lice. My whole fucking house. I'm washing rugs, sheets, clothing. I'm putting the lice shampoo on everyone's hair. Giving everyone military hair styles and dying their hair with clairol's Light Golden Brown, Full Tilt Toffee. Which makes them look like little Vanilla Ice's. They're young, hair grows and they'll get through this.
Me, on the other hand, will never visit that salon again.
