Fridays are great, we all know that. Fridays on which you're the recipient of a visit from a good friend are better.
This past Friday was on of the better ones. Oldfriend came down for a quasi-impromptu visit, which is always more fun than the heavily planned kind. A quick e-mail exchange resulted in a wobbly plan to to 1) drink, 2) talk, 3) dye hair, 4) get pedicure, 5) drink more, 6) talk more.
We did not plan on the second round of hair dyeing.
See, well, Friday night kinda got a little tiny bit out of hand in the numbers 1 and 5 department, being as how the Knob Creek was working its anti-inhibition magic on us (perhaps on me more than her, but I didn't bother to query while the event was ongoing OR after the hangover wore off) after drinkie #2. To prepare for the great events, I had purchased a couple of boxes of RED hair preps for us, me the permanent kind, and she the temporary "washes out in 28 days" kind. Same shade, vastly different results, as it turned out.
WORD TO THE WISE: It is never, ever ever a good idea to start any hair dyeing process a) after midnight, b) after several drinks, and c) ESPECIALLY after a walk around the neighborhood only serves to prove that one is not in full control of one's gross motor skills. Yeah, uh, falling OFF the sidewalk is a pretty sure sign that one isn't working with all one's faculties intiact.
And when one is having much fun with an old friend, and when one is pretty well lubricated with some of the very bestest bourbon Kentucky has to offer, why, what BETTER time to dye one's hair than in the very small wee hours of a Saturday morning! Of COURSE it's the right time, what BETTER time! Tish tosh on your silly practicality and logic, say I!
Nevermind that one fell off a sidewalk earlier (more than once, it must be told), which should alert one to the fact that the FINE motor skills required to actually evenly distribute said red hair dye across one's cranium might be in some measure of doubt. One does not think of such things when one is 2 sheets gone and it's Saturday morning and OMG I haven't been up this late in a long time and let's just do this thing because I want to be a redhead right NOW!
For the record, so did she. It wasn't just me. She did too.
Therefore, I did a horribly crappy dye job on BOTH of us. Hooray!
How we did laugh at the funny funny color the dye mix turned in the bottle "oooh look, it's all purple! hee! do you thin our hair will be purple too? Whatever will people say?" and how we did maketh the amusing hairshapes with our semi-saturated purply dyed hair, and how we did make merry whilst rinsing (separately) and noticing the vivid slime that did drip from our vibrant scalps, and how we did peer into the mirror at 1 a.m. viewing the aftermath of slosh-ed dyeing.
How one of us did gasp in shock at the Bozo/Lucy/Fire engine redness of her hair, and the broad swatches of leftover blond in the back that somehow got left behind in the dyeing.
How one of us did admire her color, but wonder if perhaps ALL of it, in fact, shouldn't be red. In the wondering, she stumbled upon the truth that a woman with very thick long hair does in fact need TWO bodxes of hair dye to properly staurate the luxuriant tresses that do adorn her head.
How we did plan on a re-try at a more sober time.
The homemade guacamole and fire-roasted tortillas were good though, as was the conversation and baked sweet potatos with gobs of butter, as was the bourbon, and talking, and talking, and talking, so all was not lost. Why, we could just get MORE dye! We could re-process! And so we did, to reasonably good effect. Being sober helped. Amazing how that works. We sincerely needed the hand-eye coordination to lay the dye down onto the stripies we'd (I'd) left behind the first time.
My hair? Still shockingly red. Yes, I stuck with the "wake me up that's so LOUD" hair color.
Other bits of a weekend well spent go like this: furniture shopping, walks in the neighborhood, Moe's, incredibly good vegetarian food made from some of YOUR recipes (and thanks, y'all!), mojitos of a sort, sleeping late, talking, talking, talking, initiating a Malt-o-Meal virigin into the yumminess that is the Brown Sugar and Maple breakfast food of the gods, getting a one-HOUR LONG pedicure, and picking out which cop from the crop out front of the sports bar who were doing the baby-seat fittings (sigh, public servants!) would be allowed to bed us if we so chose to deign such a thing possible. Also nachos.
We didn't even have time to play with makeup, which is a flagrant pajama party rule violation. I wonder if our girl cards are going to be revoked. I might have to appeal that decision by invoking the "double process" defense, then unveiling the great swath of titian tresses from the headwrap I'm currently wearing. Y'all, I might like to pretend I live my life right out loud, but I'm NOT above playing the sympathy card when provoked.
How was YOUR weekend?