hair, flair, and vacuum operators
Feb. 7th, 2003 11:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fearlesstempBreaking news: I have new hair! Very new hair! Very short, new hair! I'm still dealing with it and keep veering between Oh, It's So Cute and Dear God, Do I Look Like An Irish Round-Faced Justin Guarini? For my hair is pretty curly (though a smidge more relaxed than ole Justin's) and the fear is there. Everyone keeps saying they like it, but this is one of those situations where that can't be trusted because people are going to lie and say they like it even if they don't because, you know, does anyone ever actually say they don't like someone's new haircut?
Anyway. It's an adventure! It's modern, or so my hairdresser said! I think because it's longer in the front than in the back though I can't really tell. AND (extra bonus points) it's very low maintenance. So much less time to blow dry! New hairdresser also said I don't need conditioner, which is exciting and cuts the Jess Maintenance Budget a bit.
In other news: I think one of the maintenance dudes in my office building likes me. Which would be okay, except he's not so much studly heavy-lifting maintenance guy as non-verbal, shifty-eyed vacuum dude. I was in the elevator with him once last week and he held the elevator for someone who didn't end up coming on the elevator with us and I said something about how it was a nice gesture and we exchanged pleasantries about the weather, etc. Now he keeps staring at me whenever we run into each other! Today I had to call building maintenance because Mr. OCD Boss noticed a few salt deposits under his desk and needed them vacuumed up IMMEDIATELY and so shifty-eyed maintenance dude came up with his vacuum. It was awkward because he kept looking at me like he had something to say but never said anything. So I just sat there and did my best to avoid eye contact without being rude while answering the phones at a dull roar since the commercial vacuum sounded not unlike a jet during takeoff. "[UNPRONOUNCEABLE FIRM NAME]!!!!....WHAT?....WHAT??....HE'S NOT -- HE'S NOT HERE, CAN I PUT YOU THROUGH TO HIS VOICEMAIL??"
Anyway. I hope I don't sound mean or anything because I'm sure the guy is a nice guy and everything, but he just doesn't seem like he's all there. Which would be fitting, for my one male admirer in my fourteen-floor office building to be someone a few cards short of a full deck. And really, what would we talk about? He vacuums for a living! I hate vacuuming! It could never work.
Thinking about this, I wonder if my parking garage attendant looks upon me, as I flail about helplessly half-leaning out of my ghetto station wagon, with the same benevolent caution I do shifty-eyed vacuum dude. Something to ponder.
Tonight I went out to dinner with my parents, as I do almost every Friday night because I am a BIG FAT LOSER, and our waiter looked like he'd been plucked from the background of some scene in the Godfather. The hair, the flair, the whole nine. The restaurant was Italian and made all of its waiters dress up in vests and bow ties and all that, which just added to the mystique. And! We were right near the back of the restaurant and all of the busboys and waiters were handing these huge wads of money back and forth and talking on this pay phone and it was all very Corleone.
And I think that's all for now. Except! I FORGOT ABOUT THE NBA ALL STAR THING! I may commit ritual suicide. Or just mope for the rest of the evening. I am SUCH A MASSIVE TARD! Dammit.
Off to read people's responses to the NBA thang...
Anyway. It's an adventure! It's modern, or so my hairdresser said! I think because it's longer in the front than in the back though I can't really tell. AND (extra bonus points) it's very low maintenance. So much less time to blow dry! New hairdresser also said I don't need conditioner, which is exciting and cuts the Jess Maintenance Budget a bit.
In other news: I think one of the maintenance dudes in my office building likes me. Which would be okay, except he's not so much studly heavy-lifting maintenance guy as non-verbal, shifty-eyed vacuum dude. I was in the elevator with him once last week and he held the elevator for someone who didn't end up coming on the elevator with us and I said something about how it was a nice gesture and we exchanged pleasantries about the weather, etc. Now he keeps staring at me whenever we run into each other! Today I had to call building maintenance because Mr. OCD Boss noticed a few salt deposits under his desk and needed them vacuumed up IMMEDIATELY and so shifty-eyed maintenance dude came up with his vacuum. It was awkward because he kept looking at me like he had something to say but never said anything. So I just sat there and did my best to avoid eye contact without being rude while answering the phones at a dull roar since the commercial vacuum sounded not unlike a jet during takeoff. "[UNPRONOUNCEABLE FIRM NAME]!!!!....WHAT?....WHAT??....HE'S NOT -- HE'S NOT HERE, CAN I PUT YOU THROUGH TO HIS VOICEMAIL??"
Anyway. I hope I don't sound mean or anything because I'm sure the guy is a nice guy and everything, but he just doesn't seem like he's all there. Which would be fitting, for my one male admirer in my fourteen-floor office building to be someone a few cards short of a full deck. And really, what would we talk about? He vacuums for a living! I hate vacuuming! It could never work.
Thinking about this, I wonder if my parking garage attendant looks upon me, as I flail about helplessly half-leaning out of my ghetto station wagon, with the same benevolent caution I do shifty-eyed vacuum dude. Something to ponder.
Tonight I went out to dinner with my parents, as I do almost every Friday night because I am a BIG FAT LOSER, and our waiter looked like he'd been plucked from the background of some scene in the Godfather. The hair, the flair, the whole nine. The restaurant was Italian and made all of its waiters dress up in vests and bow ties and all that, which just added to the mystique. And! We were right near the back of the restaurant and all of the busboys and waiters were handing these huge wads of money back and forth and talking on this pay phone and it was all very Corleone.
And I think that's all for now. Except! I FORGOT ABOUT THE NBA ALL STAR THING! I may commit ritual suicide. Or just mope for the rest of the evening. I am SUCH A MASSIVE TARD! Dammit.
Off to read people's responses to the NBA thang...
