Piñata Girl

Feh.

I look like one of those enormous Barbie heads, only with frizzy red hair instead of frizzy blonde.

The dyed black eyelashes, the red red hair, the strangely abbreviated eyebrows... I could live with these legacies of today's ill-fated salon visit. Ski caps and jumbo sunglasses, while odd, will go far to mitigate the weirdness until everything either falls out and or grows back. What is breaking my heart, however, what makes me want to fling myself down on the floor and cry and cry until there is nothing left but memories and bitterness, is the fact that I agreed to let a total stranger cut two inches off my hair and it wound up being more like four. It's, like, shoulder-length. It also triangulates. Dip me in gold and you'd have King Tut.

And I know, you ghouls. You want a picture. You wanted pictures when the white-blond streaks made me look like a poor man's Bonnie Raitt and now you are dying to know what the late, lamented Roseanne Rosannadanna would look like in hideous technicolor.

Humph. I'll consider it.

But first I have to humiliate myself even further by telling you about the simply awful thing I did tonight.

On Sunday we went over to the new neighbors for a barbecue. One thing led to another and I suggested that they should come over here on Thursday (yes, today is Thursday) to help me perfect my Margarita Master Recipe. If the weather is nice, I said. If you feel like it, I added. (I am trying to be all casual as I would dearly love to have neighbors who were always dropping in for a cocktail but I do not want to scare them away with my desperation, you know?)

So we left it at that.

And then Steve and I got in a WHOMPING fight this morning (about whether to do IVF in DC in July- I'll fill you in) and that lasted up until I went and got all multi-colored. When I came home Steve pointed and laughed and sang Shirley Temple songs at me (I was rather... diffused.) In the heat of the moment I snapped and announced that we would be driving to the closest possible restaurant for dinner. Which just happens to be a little Mexican joint. One that sells margaritas, coincidentally enough.

And do you want to know who we ran into at the door?

The NEIGHBORS! The ones that I had invited over for margaritas tonight and then forgot about. Gak, talk about embarrassing. I could have been totally cool about it and saved the situation but instead I was mortified and tongue-tied. I mean, on the scale of Rudeness inviting people over for     and then merrily going out for    without them ranks as, what, an eleven?

And just in case you are hoping that maybe they forgot, too, she explained at the door that her husband had called and asked if she had heard from us and when she said no, he asked if she was still in the mood for margaritas....

Gak. And you wonder why I don't have any friends here (other than Elisabeth. who I am calling tomorrow. really.)

Can you think of anything I can do to rectify my incredible asininity or do we have to move?

Comments

[Karen]

Honey, so not a big deal. In their shoes, I would totally forgive you -- especially if, over the next couple of days, you rang me up out of the blue, asked me if my husband and I were doing anything right now, and if not, you had a wonderful pitcher of margaritas and four glasses you'd like to bring over.

Add that as part of the festivities, you'd be happy to let them use you as a piñata, to make up for your forgetting about margarita night.

Trust me. Nothing says "I'm sorry" like tequila.

[crissy]

The unselfish part of me would like to tell you that, as a fellow red-and-curlyhead (which I am assuming you are, see comment re: Roseanne Roseannadanna), who also happens to have enough hair for at least three full-grown llamas, I can sympathize endlessly with the triangulation. I always opted to just leave it long, always LEAVE IT LONG, until I met The Hairstylist to End All Hairstylists. She taught me that the secret to avoiding the dreaded triangle head is notching, not with notching shears, NEVER THE NOTCHING SHEARS, but by twisting individual sections of hair and snip-snip-snipping unevenly all along the bottom of each piece. Now, no matter how short I decide to go at any given time, the result is a nicely rounded, not-at-all-trapezoidally shaped coif.

The selfish lurker in me, however, who depends on your site for amusement, just wants to see pictures. ;)

Oh, and I'm sure it isn't as bad as you think - either with your hair or your friends.

[chi Zit]

Why don't you buy them a bottle of something nice and see if they are willing to come back over and humiliate you by taking the much wanted pictures of wretched hair?

Actually. Why don't you show up at their door when they are having sex and see if *you* can take pictures. Too much?

OK - so I don't know. Geez.

(I really would love to see your hair, mostly because I'm an ass, but also because I'd like to compare bad dye jobs. Also, because I really like King Tut.)

[Louise]

I like Karen's suggestion. And I would like to see pictures.

(I once had hair so green after a botched attempt to strip black dye from my dark-blond hair that a classmate leaned over my shoulder the first day of class, twisted a strand of hair between her fingers, and whispered "I can fix this." And I didn't even know her. She did fix it, and has since taken care of other embarassing hair disasters, including a mullet and triangulation. I feel your pain.)

[Coralie]

Oh god. The BLACK eyelashes are intense, aren't they?

The first time I had mine dyed I was mortified for about three days- I felt like Twiggy- and then it toned down and was beaoootiful for about a month.

The thing to do is to plan on being out of the public eye for those first couple of days. Or feed your adoring fans many many margaritas, so that they won't remember.

[katharine Calderwood]

Oh, how I love your site. I am thrilled not to be the only ass on the planet these days -- I forgot TWO women's names, both of whom I know & have liked dearly for over two years now, when forced to introduce them, and now they both think I am an insensitive moron. Oh the humanity. That, and I threw out my purse yesterday. So don't worry, you may have funny hair and unamused neighbors, but you don't have to go to the DMV because of forgetfulness. Yet.

[Lori M.]

"If the weather is nice..." Well, here in Minneapolis, I did not notice blue sky poking out of the dark gray clouds until around 6:30 pm. Before that, it was touch and go rain. So I certainly would not qualify this as a nice weather evening. (Maybe it was more obvious to those of you slightly to our east?) Of course it did turn out to be a glorious evening, but who are you, Belinda Jensen (local TV meteorologist for those of you outside the Twin Cities)? And even then, you only have about a 30% chance of getting it right.

So I'd play the weather card all the way. Plus, if they were really confused, they always could have called you. That's what I would have done. Even if that is pathetic we're talking margaritas here! So really, they have only themselves to blame. I can't believe they'd pass up margaritas. Can you BELIEVE those neighbors? Really, they should be apologizing to YOU.

And I would also post pictures of my hair. Really, I would. ;-)

[lizardek]

Totally blame the 'do!

[Holly]

I like the idea of making a pitcher and headin their way. Sincere apologies work the best and if you throw in a couple laughs, as I am sure you're apt to, no doubt your neighbors will forgive you and your overcolored lashes.

Have a great weekend!

[ValleyGal]

In those situations, I generally go with the truth. Tell the wife what you told us (fight, horrible salon experience, singing husband, need to drink margaritas made by someone else, doorbell) and that you feel like a jerk and invite them over for margaritas and fajitas and be done with it. Unless they are people you don't want to be friends with, they will laugh, understand and show up with extra tequila.

[elisabeth]

1. they should have called to ask if it was still on
2. ditto the invite and get drunk laughing over it
3. I'll be home after 3, must go to my moms to help sort for the rummage sale. She cries over the hand painted plate of great aunt somebody and I slap a 25cent sticker on it and toss it in to the garage. Should be a lovely. Hopefully we'll have margaritas.
4. tell me you did not go to Jackie for your haircut!

[chris]

Tell them the truth. People love hearing that you're human and in the process, it will make them feel better about themselves. I know, it's kind of like eating crow. But tell them that you had a huge fight and a terrible day and you just forgot. Then invite them over for a nice (casual--you don't need the stress) dinner and enjoy their company.

[karla]

I'm on team truth. We have all had a day like that and I am sure they will understand. Explain the situation and apologize, then reextend the invitation with the added bonus of allowing them to STONE Steve for singing about your hair. Don't men know by now not to make fun of hair, clothing or weight? Sorry Steve, but, Dude, that's just wrong. And Julia, I'm sorry you don't like your hair, but if it makes you feel any better, you can never be anything but beautiful to me. (Thats how it's done men)

[victoria]

If I were the neighbor I'd forgive you instantly because you're so funny & nice. Also because you just sent me a nice potted plant. Or maybe just a little nice pot. Whatever.

[Aitch]

Oh fart! That's not a big deal AT ALL! I mean if you casually invited them to come over if they FELT LIKE IT, shouldn;t they have been the ones to call and come over? Screw them you're fine.

[Emily Drew]

I admit it. I admit it. I immediately searched to see if you had a picture link. Since I've done the same thing to myself, I want to see how you rank. :)

Oh, and you could have just told them you were running out for the tequila...

[Kel]

Your description is so funny that a photo would either be not nearly so bad or so bad we could offer you up for a GoFugYourself posting.

I'm with the truth and tequila crowd.

Kel

[Karen, Suburban]

Really, only boring people are good at the social stuff all the time because they have no other life. Only because I have been there (the neighbors not the hair, I haven't the nerve to mess with my hair) I can say you might as well stay put.

You see, people like you and I (and I think I have read long enough to surmise this) are just going to go ahead and have foot in mouth mistakes or foot out the door mistakes on a fairly regular basis...if you move, you will only find a whole new crop of neighbors to offend! I have personally gone this route. I find a firm alcoholic beverage offer, with a firm time and an abject statement like "Usually I run out the BACK door if I am trying to avoid people, you I would love to know better and I'm so sorry I am incredibly lame" tends to smooth things over.

After that, they are either decent understanding people who have had their fair share of moron moments and they accept you and love you as one of their kind or they don't and hey...you'll realize it doesn't matter.

Wow, that sounded all grown up and preachy. Like my mother. Now please excuse me while I go do something to rid the stink of "like my mother" from my mind.

[Kate]

Blame it on Steve.

It's clearly HIS fault.

:)

[Honey]

Yes, STEVE! Now look what you've done!

[Tonya]

I think either myself or other commenters are mistaken as to which door the run-in occurred. I read that you ran into them at Margaritas R Us, and thus they did not owe you a telephone call regarding your previous invitation.

Personally, I don't think it's that big of deal. However, perhaps I'd send them a nice bottle of tequila and some Grand Marnier, a couple of limes and some salt along with a witty, oh so witty, note from you and you'll have best friends for life.