Gladly accepting donations for Jamba Juice and other cold treats.
I know it’s not much in comparison to google searching “nail in eye”, but it still was kind of an ordeal.
That little metal shard was stuck in my eye. It had been there for hours and I thought it was just dust from being on the ranch with my Dad yesterday. When I finally decided to investigate around 1am I was like, “WTF is that?!” I am one of those people that can not touch my eyeball. Is that a thing? Yes, it is. There are people out there that have no problem touching their eyeballs. I try to and my lid involuntarily closes faster than you can say, “I’ve got a finger in my eye.” So, I attempted several times to slide my finger over my eyeball in hopes of snagging the metal shard, but failed at every attempt. Then I tried to flush it out by keeping my eye open while dipping my face in a bowl of water. Fail. Back to eyeball touching. A couple of times I was able to hold my eyelid back and when I ran my finger over the shard I realized it was not just sitting on the surface of my eye, that bitch was STUCK in my eye. That’s when I panicked. Not a lot, but enough to know that I could not go to sleep with a shard of metal sticking in my eye. In fact, it wasn’t even a panic as much as it was one of those, “Shit…now I have to deal with this?” kind of sighs. Also, there was no way I was going to the emergency room for something that didn’t involve a bone poking out of my skin. That’s when I got the bright idea to perform self surgery with a pair of tweezers. After a couple of attempts I successfully grabbed that sonuvabitch and pulled it right out. Like most things stuck to your face it felt A LOT bigger than it actually was. All in all, it was a typical night in The Claassen House.
I have experienced way too much broken glass this year. For reals.
If things happen in threes, then consider this the bonus round.
Oh, you Dark Cloud that’s been hovering above me the past two months. I sincerely believe it’s time we part ways. Don’t get me wrong, you’ve kept life “interesting”, but if you’ll allow me to be totally frank, not necessarily the brand of interesting I need in my life. Sure, I’ve learned some things because of what you’ve put me through, but I’m done. It’s not me, it’s you.
Sayonara, you sonuvabitch!
True story. This just happened. A lady with a band aid on her face and a John Travolta 70’s hairdo just walked right into the studio, straight to my desk, looked me straight in the eye and said, “I wanna go home. Can you call me a taxi?”
I’m not in a very good mood and I thought she was messing with me so I said no.
Her Travolta 70’s hair bounced a bit as she stared at me in wonderment. People really get thrown sometimes when you tell them no. In my defense, she was also drunk and I’m in no mood to deal with drunk band aid faced ladies. She kept staring at me like I was an idiot, but hey, I’m not the intoxicated broad with a 40 year old hairdo made popular by a male teen idol. When she questioned why I wouldn’t call her a cab I told her I didn’t know the number of any taxi services and I also told her I didn’t think Paso Robles had taxi’s. She shot me her best “you’re full of shit” look, bounced her hair again and walked away without saying anything.
All I could think was, “Finally, something to write a blog post about.” Inspiration is everywhere, people.
Enjoy the rest of your weekend!
I quite enjoy stumbling upon cars parked by people that have been wine tasting all day. It makes me say…
You get to the studio and notice this…
OK fine, so you won’t schedule an appointment. I can deal with that. You’re a fast food version of a hair salon and who in their right mind would get a reservation at the local Wienerschnitzel? Nobody, that’s who. People love fast food because 1. it’s fast and 2. it’s cheap. But not you guys. Why should I have to sit and wait 30 minutes to get my head shaved? Seriously, the actual act of getting my hair cut takes less time than I would have to wait to get the haircut. Also, $17*? WTF is up with that? I didn’t want a cut, color and shampoo. I just want you to grab the shaver and run it over my scalp. That’s it. Easy peasy nice and…shaved. I went to a high end salon once and a men’s haircut was $20 and they serve you tea while you wait and the stylists had all their teeth and weren’t hungover. Oh, they also offered me a hand massage and were clearly not on day three of wearing the same outfit. So, Supercuts, you are now charging salon prices and offering fast food services minus the fast part.
With that said, my dear Supercuts, it is time for me to move on. It’s not me, it’s you.
You won’t be missed.