Welcome to my little corner of the world, this is where I rant, rave, kvetch or wax on nostalgic about anything and anyone that crosses my path at that moment in time.
Sit down for a bit and read some. If you enjoy what you read, please pass the love on to others so that they may partake in the yummy goodness that lies here.

Monday, March 28, 2011

Lindsey

Lindsey was a voluptuous woman that was well proportioned for her age.  Lindsey took care of herself by eating right, working out and not taking unnecessary  risks.  Her profession of choice was that of a barber, which is quite an oddity considering she detested men.  Not that she was lesbian, she was not, but she detested the over testosteroned, Neanderthal-like men that walked and talked like they were God's gift to a woman but never were.

Lindsey started out her career after beauty school at an upscale boutique in the well to do part of town, quickly garnering quite a following with many of the women who's hair she cut on occasion.  The only problem that Lindsey had while working there, was it would infuriate her on an almost daily basis knowing that many of the women that she serviced were married to the type of men she hated.  Which, normally was not a problem, but as with any sort of hairstylist, the client and beautician would build up a rapport with each other the more often they would see each other and with Lindsey that meant that she discovered that many of her clientele only married to attain affluence through their well to do husbands.  She could let that pass with some of the ladies that had their own careers or had their own businesses, but could not and would not with the ladies that did not have any sort of education and was just riding the coat tails of their husband.  They would claim they were for women's rights and other such causes, but probably wouldn't know how to survive out in the real world without laying on their back with their legs spread up in the air.

Lindsey at first, would go about her business as these women would prattle about all of their 'causes', how much they 'loved' their husbands; while they were secretly doing the pool boy Carlos on the side, but as with most things, they started to come to a head and Lindsey started to voice her opinions.  This of course did not set well with the ladies that so loved her doing their hair, but they would tolerate it since she did such a wonderful job and besides, what would such a person as a hairstylist know about life, as all she does is cut and style hair.  Thus, things would go on for awhile, with an uneasy relationship, until Lindsey said something to a very well connected woman, who took great offense with what opinions Lindsey was spouting off.  So upset was this woman that she threatened to sue, not only the opinionated Lindsey, but the boutique as well and would tell all of her other lady friends about the very poor service and rudeness she was presented with.

Naturally with any sort of threat like that, any business owner would cave, no matter how many clients an employee brings in but a threat to lose much more, is cause for alarm, to which Lindsey was summarily dismissed from her duties.

Which leads us to the present, where Lindsey works at an all woman barbershop; not that they only serve women but that they are all women cutting hair on a mostly male clientele.  Which is not ideal for Lindsey but she can still do what is her chosen profession; even if it is on a mostly male clientele.

She goes to work numbing herself mentally to the idea that most of the men that she will be cutting today are the type of men that she despises and she tries to condition herself knowing that a few will ask her out, a few will ogle her and some will even 'accidentally' cop a feel.  All of this she sets aside in her mind every day by telling herself that this is only temporary and that one day one of the boutiques will look at her credentials and take her in, but till that day, she will have to cope with these Neanderthals.

As with any job that anyone of us has in our lifetimes, we begin our time there on our best behavior and when we become easy with our bosses and other co-workers, we tend to slip into our own personalities.

This is what Lindsey started to do.  At first, it was slight remarks towards the men.  Their personalities, careers, lifestyles or anything that she had quite a differing opinion about.  Almost anything that would get under anyone's skin.  Always just a quick jab of a remark that would catch the ire of the man but not so much to cause a ruckus over; for Lindsey knew that a man would respect a woman that had sharp instruments in her hands and would dare not say anything in rebuke to the contrary.

This at the beginning was acceptable to Lindsey but then she wanted to hurt these men in some sort of fashion, so she would start to accidentally nick them a little, give haircuts a little too short or not exactly short enough, leave the back lopsided or the sideburns.  Just little things that would go mostly unnoticed by most of the men by would lessen their looks some to the women they would be dating by making them look slightly disheveled or unkempt.

One day while washing the hair of one of the knuckle dragger's hair, she happened to notice that she was being ogled and when he noticed that she noticed, he did not stop, just grinned and said, "Nice."  This incensed Lindsey instantly.  She began to forceful finish with him in a way that could not be confused in anyway that she was pleased with his actions.  This did not perturb the man in anyway, he just continued to ogle, occasionally verbalizing with an, "Mmmm" or "Nice."

Without thinking to what she was doing, Lindsey grabbed a pair of scissors and jabbed them into the man's left eye.  The man let out a howl of pain, sat straight up in the chair and began screaming like a child.  Holding his eye with blood and vitreous fluid seeping through his fingers dripping down to the floor.  Everyone else in the barbershop just stopped in absolute horror as Lindsey just turned and walked outside as calm as can be.  Not a word passed from her lips or from anyone else's for that matter.  The other barbers did not know what to do so they just stood there in shock, their clients were mostly shocked as well.

One man that was waiting, noticed what had happened and quickly sprang to action.  He and a few others, helped the man out of the chair to lay down on the floor, where the scissors were removed and a clean towel was placed over the eye to help control the bleeding.  When the paramedics arrived, the man was in shock but would survive.  The police arrested Lindsey who was found outside sitting on the curb smoking a cigarette as calmly and coolly as if she was on break.

Thursday, March 17, 2011

Rebel

I've decided I am a rebel.

This isn't through some sort of mid-life crisis or confusion of identity but through general observation of myself and those around me.

Now what makes me a rebel you ask?  I wear a helmet when I ride, while many that I see do not.  I know that doesn't sound very rebel-ish, but considering being a rebel is one who rebels and I rebel against those that do not wear, I think it fits.

I'm not a big person to tell others what precautions they should or should not take while they ride or what they should or should not be wearing, I prefer to let natural selection take its course.  I can hear some of you now, "Big deal," "Real men don't need a helmet," and so forth and so on but I prefer to protect what precious life I have for as long as I have; especially when those other drivers in cars don't pay attention as is.  Considering that most motorcycle fatalities could have been prevented if the rider had been wearing a helmet, I think I'll take those odds rather than gambling by not wearing one.