Beauty Tip: Never let a stripper wax your eyebrows

I learned this the hard way...

Guys, you might switch from barber shops to salons if you knew that many strippers have day jobs working in beauty shops. It's true. (And if you think about it, it kind of makes sense in some weird way.) Anyway...

One Saturday I was out and about and stopped at a salon for a quick brow wax. I've had them a million times, and I'm not picky about who I see or where it's done so long as I leave looking more like Liz Taylor rather than Frida here.

As a walk-in (meaning no appointment, as many brow waxes are done) you're not going to get Vidal Sasson to tend to you. You're going to get the shampoo girl, the girl who sweeps up hair, or really any warm body with hands. Well this one day I got the known stripper in the salon--Amber, Autumn...something like that (you know it's a stage name, so I'm not exactly revealing her identity here). She had the fake boobs, gallons of makeup, glittery platform shoes--the whole deal.

So she takes me to the waxing room, we make salon small talk (no, I don't have kids; yes I've had my brows waxed before; no, I don't need any products; yes, I know how fabulous they are...) She finally starts to apply the wax, and everything's going as it should...until she puts the muslin strips on the wax to remove the hair.

Ideally, muslin strips should be on your skin for a fraction of a second during any waxing. You want them to just adhere to the wax, then quickly remove them. Well, you'd think that Amber/Autumn was wallpapering my face the way she applied the muslin. She took her time, she pressed it down, she rubbed it. Those strips were basically superglued to my brow. I knew I was in for a world of hurt.

I'll spare you the gory details, but let's just say that I left the waxing room looking like Rocky after the fight where Mick cut his eye. It. was. bad! I had to see my dermatologist the next day! I wore sunglasses for a week, even inside.

The irony is that you'd think strippers would know a lot about hair removal. Although I guess no one is really looking at their eyebrows...

The Good Samaritan...Soap Style

I was an unknowing Good Samaritan this holiday season, and I have General Hospital to thank for it.

A friend of mine who is an Average Joe-kind of guy has a new-ish girlfriend who is the Diamonds&Furs-type. One night during the October storm he and I were drowning our power outage woes in wine at a local establishment. Average Joe said that he was feeling very insecure with Diamonds&Furs, and that he was already stressing about potential Christmas gifts for her. Always one to come to the aid of someone in need, I told him a little story that I'd seen on General Hospital years and years ago.

Sonny Corinthos was being forced to marry Lily Rivera for mob business purposes. He did not love her, even though she loved him; but he respected her greatly. When Sonny proposed he quoted a beautiful passage from the Bible that said something like "a good woman is hard to find, and is worth more than diamonds." And so Sonny gave Lily a ruby engagement ring to signify that she was both a good woman and worth more than diamonds. I always loved that scene. Average Joe liked it too (even if it was from a soap opera, he added).

Well I saw Average Joe yesterday, and he was so excited to tell me that that he got Diamonds&Furs a ruby ring for Christmas, and that she absolutely loved it. He said he even used to whole "good woman" schpeel and that it was met with great success. Judging from the smile on his face, I think I know what she gave him for Christmas in return. Good deed accomplished!

And the moral of the story is that 1. it's a good idea to recommend gifts to clueless men, and 2. it's truly worthwhile to watch soap operas. This story is proof positive!

How "We Are the World" has helped me in life

The 2006 Grammy nominees were announced today. I don't even know half the singers or songs. It's so pathetic. The only one I do know is Justin Timberlake, and I hate him. I don't just hate his music, I think I really hate him in his entirety. I can't put my finger on exactly why; I've never even met the man. But I'm certain of my bad vibe-age regarding him.

So I was feeling down on myself for not knowing any of the Grammy nominees (as if that's the key to health, wealth and happiness). Nonetheless, I was thinking, "Am I not hip anymore? (Maybe I never even was!) Do I really know as much about pop culture as I think I do, or am I delusional?" And then half my self-doubt went away (the pop culture half; I'm still feeling like I'm not hip at the moment) when I saw a list of previous Grammy winners and We Are the World was listed as Song of the Year in 1985, and I realized how much I really do know about pop culture.

I L-O-V-E-D We Are the World! To eight year old me that song and its 40 singers were my whole world for a good two months. I listened to the song constantly (my poor parents) and I watched "The Making of We Are the World" over and over again; I even memorized the album cover! I'm dead serious. Any name I didn't know at the time (like James Ingram) I researched. I researched until I knew everybody.

Now, some may see this as a waste of brain space. After all, what good can possibly come from knowing all the singers who participated in We Are the World? Well, it did help me win a game of Trivial Pursuit in 2001, some sixteen years later! It was a fierce game of boys against girls. The final question to win was something like:

"Who was the only non-American to participate

in the recording of We Are the World."

I pulled up my mental database of artists and came up with the answer for the win.

The answer is DAN AYKROYD. He's Canadian.

Another little tidbit I know is that Dan Aykroyd and his wife, Donna Dixon, are very very very good friends with Fran Drescher. They're so close that Fran and her ex-husband stayed with Dan & Donna for a period of time following a violent and traumatic break-in to their home.

Oh, here's another little nugget of knowledge. American Idol's Randy Jackson was a contributing vocalist on the album.

I know--I know way too much about We Are the World. Maybe that's why I'm not hip.

A story about the time my dog locked me out of the car

One time I was traveling from Buffalo to Cleveland and stopped at Old Exit 7 in Erie, PA for gas. I was driving a Ford Explorer with my trusty dog Reagan in the back. At first everything was cool; pump operating, tank filling. I was almost done, then suddenly Reagan jumped from the hatch to the back seat to the front seat, proceeded to stomp on the power lock button, and LOCKED ME OUT OF THE CAR. Yes, my own dog locked me out of the car with my keys, purse and phone inside. Then he sat there in the driver’s seat barking, mocking me.

I had to call a locksmith and wait awhile, and the whole time Reagan sat in the driver’s seat staring at me. At one point I got so desperate I tried to get him to jump on the lock again to open the doors. But even if he knew how to do it he wouldn’t have. Because that’s the way Reagan rolls.

Here is the face he makes when he plays "fetch," which is really more like "hoard." He's daring me to try to get the ball. I never do.

Garbage Pail Nightmare

I forgot to take my garbage tote to the curb last night, so by this time next week I'm going to be swimming in trash like a Garbage Pail Kid. When I heard the truck on my street this morning I was still sleeping, and at that time I was in my comfy Karen Neuburger nightgown under two down quilts with two sleeping dogs and three sleeping cats surrounding me-- garbage didn't seem like a big deal at the time. A few hours later, I'm seeing it a little differently.

But it did inspire me to blog about the trashtastic 80's phenomenon called Garbage Pail Kids. I wasn't too into them, but I do acknowledge their significance in pop culture. (Was it just me, or was that the worst stick of gum ever that came with them? Ick!)

In addition to piling garbage, I've had laundry piling up this week. Unless I deal with it this weekend, I'll be able to launch a new series of cards called "Washbasket People." This would be the first card inspired by me.

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Julio, the Carnivorous Bird

When I was 15 I went on a trip to Florida with my best friend at the time, Molly. We stayed with her “Aunt Junie & Uncle Jimmy.” The age difference between Molly & I and Junie & Jimmie was about 15 times Pi, squared, so it wasn’t the hippest trip, but it was still a blast.

Of the many many many stories I collected that week from spending seven days with senior citizens, the most memorable was of a bird named “Julio.” Junie, Jimmy, Molly and I went to neighbor’s home for dinner. Molly rang the doorbell, and after a minute the door opened and there was a bizarre-looking woman standing before me who had the largest and most numerous teeth I’ve ever seen on a human being. Without a word, this woman, whose name I don’t remember but will call “Ruthy” (obviously because it rhymes with toothy) grabbed Molly’s and my arms and dragged us through the house to her backyard. As she dragged us, she introduced herself and explained that “Julio” was nearby and we might be able to see him. I had no idea who "Julio" was, but had no time to ask. Next thing I know she hands each of us a raw steak. Yes, you read that correctly. The woman put raw meat in our hands in preparation for introducing us to a bird.

A whole host of thoughts scurried through my mind, but I was instantly distracted when Toothy Ruthy began to yodel “Julio! Julio! Juuullliiooooooo!” All of a sudden something with the wingspan of Pegasus took flight from across the lake her backyard sat on. The only way I can describe this “bird” is that it looked like a pterodactyl (wow was I WAY off on the spelling of that word. Thank you spellcheck. I won't be winning any spelling bees with "terradactyl.") Anway, I know that PTERODACTLs have been extinct since, like, the Jurassic era, but I swear this was a pterodactyl.

Toothy Ruthy then told us to hold our steaks out, and, as Julio drew closer and closer, like Mel Gibson in the cavalry battle scene from Braveheart she said “Steady…Hold…Hold!...Hold!...NOW!!!” and Julio swooped down and took the steak from my hand. Molly threw hers up in the air and ran inside. Toothy Ruthy cheered and jumped up and down and shouted accolades at Julio as he returned to his lyre at the other end of the lake.

To this day I don’t know what kind of “bird” Julio was, but sometimes when I’m watching the Discovery Channel I think that I might see him on his own special. What? It’s possible that he’s still alive. If he was over a million years old in 1992, what’s another 14 years?



This is what Julio looked like. (I'm embarrassed to admit this, but I first did a clipart search for photos of pterodactyls. I wonder why I couldn't find any? They're probably with photos of Jesus. )