I Paid $120 to Look Like that Guy in The Foo Fighters

Saturday...much anticipation over the eagerly awaited and long overdue hair appointment. I am convinced I will come out looking chic and stylish and very grown up with amazing hair. I am convinced that this will finally be the day where my clothes, hair, makeup and accessories all work together to make me appear effortlessly put-together and amazingly stylish.

Um...not so much.

Let me first say this - For years I had the most amazing stylist in the world. If she even so much as touched my hair, it looked perfect. I thought this was some kind of urban hair myth, but she actually managed to cut my hair in a way that I could replicate exactly. She was a hair goddess and I luuuuved her very much. Then she had to go and get married and move to Seattle.

Bitch.

After many misguided attempts at finding a new stylist, I called the salon the hair goddess used to work at and explained how much I luuuuved my old stylist and ask if they had, by any chance cloned her before she left. They did not have the foresight to clone her, but they had Brittany, who the receptionist assured me was just as good and had actually trained with my old stylist.

"Brittany". This should have been my first clue.

I get to the salon and am introduced to Brittany who is all of seven years old and might weigh 62 lbs. I already hate Brittany. I brought a picture of how I wanted my hair to look, thinking that having a visual aid might make this easier for everyone. Brittany takes a look at the picture and assures me that not only can she cut my hair like this, but that it will be a very flattering cut for me. Actually what she says is "Ohmygod that will, like, look sooooo cuuuuuttttteee on you!!!!!".

Okay, thanks for the enthusiasm.

So we get started. First is the deep conditioning treatment which goes well. I'm relaxing under the dryer with lovely smelling Aveda products on my head thinking to myself that this isn't going to be that bad. Brittany comes over to check on me and says "It looks like I'm doing brain surgery on you". Um..okay. I'm not really sure what she means, but whatever.

She washes the conditioner out of my hair, I take my glasses off and she starts cutting my hair. She finishes cutting and starts blow drying. Then she takes this pomade stuff and glopps it all over my head, after which she whips out the curling iron and starts curling the pomade loaded hair. At this point I'm a little confused, but since I'm blind as a freaking bat without my glasses, I can't really see what she's doing, but I think I smell smoke and burnt hair.

After a verrrrrry long time (she cut about 7 inches off of my hair) Brittany announces that she's done and I put my glasses on.

Y'all. I wanted to cry. Seriously.

I can't even begin to explain the horrors that Brittany had wrought on my head.

I take another look and decide that maybe once I get home and wash all the pomade and freaky curls out of my hair that I would look much less scary and that maybe it wasn't such a bad cut, maybe she just styled it like crap.

I go to the reception area and the receptionist looks at me with this very strange look on her face. She goes to say something and then changes her mind and then tells me that "It's going to be $120 today"!!!!!!! Fuck. If I came yesterday would it have only been $40?

I leave the salon and it's raining. Rain and an excess of pomade don't mix and form a glue like substance on my head. I attempt to scrape my hair into a ponytail and don't so much end up with a "tail" as I do a "nub". I'm getting more depressed by the minute.

I get home and Nick takes one look at the nub and asks what the hell happened to my head. The only answer I can come up with is "Brittany happened". Then I go in the bathroom and cry.

Later, we're watching the European music video awards and the Foo Fighters come on. At exactly the same second Nick and I realize that Brittany (that evil, evil hell bitch) has given me Dave Ghrol's haircut and I am doomed for at least the next six months to look like an idiot while it grows out.

Brittany must be destroyed.

So...if there are any lurkers out there with who know of a good salon/stylist in the Houston area, now would be a good time to leave a comment. Even if you don't know of a good stylist, now would be a good time to tell me how amazing I am, because I seriously want to cry everytime I look in the mirror.

I will get even with Brittany if it's the last thing I do and am currently having fantasies about tying her to a chair and shaving her head.