Archive | June, 2013

I can make anything a competition.

22 Jun

Image Source: www.someecards.com

I was looking down, chin to chest, so my stylist could clean up the back of my hairline, when one of his co-workers shouted from across the salon, “Look, Tom – we’re doing the same haircut!”

Without moving my head, I lifted my eyes to the mirror, trying to get a look at his customer. And there she sat, across the room, half hidden by a support beam, her head tilted to the side while he worked on giving her bob a straight line along her chin.

Clearly no one “owns” a haircut. But until that moment, it hadn’t occurred to me that my haircut wasn’t a unique masterpiece that only Tom could create. As soon as I realized this, I could not stop checking out the other woman.

Is it the EXACT same cut? 

How’s her color? 

Does she have more or less hair than I do to work with?

Is her hair as straight as mine?

Let’s see her face – does this cut look good on her head?

Who wears it better? 

Is her guy better than Tom?

Is Tom faster than her guy?

Is speed actually desirable in this situation? 

Does her guy use clippers?

Is it better if he only uses scissors? 

And when Tom released me from my chair with a rock-solid cut while she still sat, waiting for her hairline to be cleaned up, I realized: I had won.

It was all I could do to not high-five Tom, then walk over and – standing in front of the woman – point to my hair and say, “Suck it.”

Wouldn’t that be an interesting way to finish your haircut? Having a stranger come beat their chest with pride in front of you? I’m actually a bit sorry I didn’t do it.

Also? From now on I’m going to refer to Tom as my Hair Jockey. And yes, I realize what that makes me.

What to expect when you’re launching.

17 Jun
One difference between birthing a BABY vs. a WEBSITE.

One difference between birthing a BABY vs. a WEBSITE.

Holy smokes! I don’t think I’ve ever gone this long without posting SOMETHING.

It’s not that I’m tired of blogging. And it’s not that I’m tired of you, kind readers. It’s just that I’ve been fairly consumed by my day job lately. I’m leading a project with a lot of moving parts, one of which is the development of a fairly complex website that is slated to launch this week.

To give you some sense of how it’s going: In more than one meeting lately, I’ve found myself unintentionally substituting the word “birth” for launch. As in – when someone asked if I’m excited about the launch – I said, “Can’t wait to birth it and burp it!”

After using that word for a third or fourth time, I paused to figure out where it was coming from. I’m not a maternal person. I have no personal experience with pregnancy and hopefully never will. I’m not hanging out with a slew of pregnant friends where vocabulary creep could be to blame.

But I realized that although it’s an odd analogy, it’s not a completely inappropriate one. There is more than one parallel to pregnancy stemming from this project:

  • I’ve been working on it for about nine months.
  • I’ve gained weight from stress eating (although thankfully I haven’t had to give up wine).
  • I can’t sleep through the night so I’m generally walking around exhausted.
  • I often feel barfy and have sharp pains in my stomach (that’s the Crohn’s, but still…).
  • There’s been epic debate over the name.

Also? I suspect this week is going to play out much like a real delivery. There will be a lot of yelling, maybe even swearing. At some point I’ll probably beg someone to “just get it out.” And although none of us will talk about what they see when I push, no one will ever be able to consider me a lady again.

I swear, I’ll get back to more regular (and more comic) posting after I squeeze this thing out.

Why real life is not like the movies.

1 Jun
Me and technology: what it looks like.

Me and technology: what it looks like.

The other night, seemingly out of the blue, Alan said, “I really need to remember what my computer password is.”

I gave him my best, “Whachewtalkinbout, Willis?” looks.

“You know,” he explained, “So you can log into my computer when I’m not here in case you want to stream something on the flatscreen.”

I nodded slowly, appreciating that he was looking out for me. “But why do you need a password?” I asked. “Doesn’t your computer scan your thumbprint?”

It was his turn to nod slowly, waiting for me to find the flaw in my logic. “It does… but it’s my thumbprint. It won’t work for you.” 

I shook my head. “I’ve seen this on Mission Impossible. We just need to cut off your thumb and leave it here. That way neither of us need to remember a password. Everyone wins!!”

And ever since then, I haven’t been able to find a knife in this house.

C’mon, Alan – it was a JOKE. Kind of.