As Seen On Yelp...

It's that time of year again and I need me a haircut. The last time I got a hair cut it was awful. Anyone know someone? Hook a sister up. Please make sure it is not at the Aveda Institute. I have qualms about that place and here is why...

Being in dire need for a long overdue haircut, I decided to try Aveda after seeing the great reviews posted. I'm sad to say, I was pretty disappointed. I'm sure that there are a lot of talented stylists there and I saw a lot of very happy clients, but unfortunately for me, I drew the short end of the stick.

The stylist that they gave me looked very uncomfortable from the moment I sat at her station. When I told her how I wanted her to cut my hair (I even showed her a photo), she looked like a deer in headlights, which made me feel very uneasy since I didn't ask for anything difficult--just choppy layers and textured bangs.

Throughout my appointment, she apologized at least 6 times since she was a little clumsy. She got water in my eyes when she was shampooing my hair (not a big deal), but then she also managed to spritz my whole face with her water bottle while attempting to fix the nozzle. I'm surprised that I don't have little cuts on my face from her since she kept poking me with scissor blades while she was cutting my hair. Also, she kept burning my scalp while she was blow drying. On top of that, I basically sat in silence the whole time, since she wasn't much of a conversationalist, which is fine, just kind of awkward. When I told that I was expecting the layers to be a little more choppy and I preferred by hair to be blown out straight, she became a little defensive and frantic.

Towards the end of the hair cut, when she was touching up my hair with product, I was trying to rush her and told her everything was fine just because I wanted to get out of there. Needless to say, the outcome was not exactly what I wanted. I managed to walk out with the "Rachel" and I would have been okay with it if it was 1995.

I understand that the stylists at Aveda are students and still learning, but I was still expecting to get someone who had some sort of idea of what they were doing and something close to what I wanted. And I am not saying that this is a horrible place to go, because it was very nice and everyone was very professional. I'm just saying that the only way I would be willing to give this place a second chance is if they promise to never give me Stacy as my stylist ever again.

I Love You Like A Fat Kid Loves Cake... Or Do I?

Everyone is familiar with the Oedipus Complex and the Napoleon Complex. Today, I would like to take this time to educate you about the Fat Kid Complex. This complex is a group of largely unconscious, repressed ideas and feelings which center around the desire to be accepted as a fully functional, healthy normal adult instead of the bucket of pudge they were as a child. According to modern psychoanalytic miotic bioposy motion picture theory (Big words make it sound real, right?), the complex appears post puberty once the subject loses their baby weight, but close family and friends refuse to recognize them as a different person and still percieve them as some sort of freak Baby Huey. Growing up as a chubby kid, I have developed this complex innately and have suffered its repercussions.

For some reason, if you were a fat kid growing up, it will follow you for the rest of your life. Even if you lose the baby fat, your family and friends that knew you growing up will only see you as a fat kid. Take Jerry O'Connell for instance. Even though he is married to Rebecca Romijn and has had slue of crappy shows and horrible movies, he will be forever remembered as the fat kid from Stand By Me. You will always get XL sweaters from grandma for Christmas. When you visit distant relatives in far off lands, they will always tell you how they remembered how you were yay big and this wide. Even though you have taken your sweet time to hide mortifying photos of you in your bigger days, somehow your mother will always manage to bring out the one photo you have in a yellow polka dot bikini with all your little rolls hanging out when you bring someone over. (No, I'm not bitter at all.) Sure, it was cute then, but there is no need to relive the past.

Carl Jung insists that the core of this complex is the archtyple figure of the Maury Povich Baby, but he does not go on to explain the relationship between the subject and the said architype. The image of the Maury Povich Baby is not to be taken literally of course, but the meaning behind the Maury Povich Baby,  paired with the fact that parents actually feed babies eight sticks of melted butter instead of milk and 17 Denny's Grand Slams with a side of bacon, points to the ubiquitous existence of this particular archetype. Think about it. Babies on the Maury Povich show are morbidly obese because of their parents' needs to appease them and make them happy. Growing up, they may or may not lose this weight. If they do, great. But since they are already predisposed to this, their parents and other family have grown accustomed to them being a certain way and this way is apparently the chubby kid, that they never want to be again.

Case in point, Mom parental units of former chubby kids--we are no longer the chubby kids you raised, but young adults. We do not need to be reminded that we were overweight as children and no, we do not need to wear extra large clothing. Please slow your roll because your overparenting will only lead us to develop additional complexes and turn to binge drinking, promiscuity, and/or bulimia. K? Thanks. :)

Lost Lessons By IDK My BFF Kim

First and foremost, I would like to apologize for neglecting to update this blog, but trust me, I have a good reason. See, my life, as of late, has become consumed by a little phenomenon I like to call, Lost. Yeah, I know. I'm a little late to the party, but so what! I started watching this show a few weeks ago and became obsessed. Not only is this show wildly entertaining, but it taught me a few things about life that I never knew and/or confirmed what I already knew. So, friends, I'd like to share with you some Lost Lessons. (Oh, and for the sake of crazies who aren't up to date with the show (Meegan) and I know I'm not going to tip toe around things that happened, I guess this is where I am supposed to say: SPOILER ALERT.)

Lost Lesson 1: It's a Small World After All.

You know that game, 6 Degrees of Kevin Bacon? Or that social networking site, Facebook? In a nutshell, life is basically like that. We are all interconnected in a weird way. Lost shows this in its characters' flashbacks/flash forwards. Regardless of whether or not Flight 815 crashed on the island, these people's lives would still impact one another for better or for worse. Take the Jacob character for instance. He took it upon himself to see the main characters of the show at their most vulnerable moments (Kate and Sawyer as children, Jin and Sun at their wedding, Locke after he was thrown out of the window, etc.). And if the plane never crashed, Sawyer would've become a cop and he still would've worked with Miles who would set him up on a date with Charlotte, who he would still f the mess out of. I guess what I am trying to say is that fate has a funny way of working and the people who are meant to be in your life, will be in your life no matter what crazy path you choose.

Lost Lesson 2: You can take the girl out of the bull dyke, but you can't take the bull dyke out of the girl. (That doesn't sound right, but you get where I am going.)

Girl Fight, Fast and the Furious, S.W.A.T., and Lost. These are the most memorable movies that actress, Michelle Rodriguez, is most known for. FACT. These roles all call for the same type of woman: butch, intimidating, scary, borderline man-hating lesbian with emotional issues. FACT. Michelle Rodriguez is unfairly being typecast into these roles because she is the only woman in the world who's aura can emasculate a man, terrify a woman, and be the main suspect in a rape/homicide and still not be convicted for fear that a potentially more obscene and graphic Shawshank Redemption-esque rape scene may ensue. FACT. If anyone were to make a movie that called for a scary butch lesbian type that hides her feelings under a very scary butch exterior Michelle Rodriguez would be at the top of their casting list. FACT. Michelle Rodriguez scares the gum balls out of me. FACT. You get my point.

Lost Lesson 3: Ethnic people can be attractive too.

If you knew the pre-Lost me, you knew about my aversion to people of color. It's nothing personal. I just like my men like I like my teeth---straight, white, and strong. (Trust me. This was the least offensive analogy I could come up with.) Lost showed me that I should keep an open mind because there are good looking men from all over the world. The ageless Richard Alpert showed me that not all Spanish men are gay. Just because they are clean and pretty doesn't mean they enjoy the company of men. They are just more in touch with their feelings (duly noted after this passed episode) and have lush eyelashes that only make it look like they are wearing a lot of eyeliner. And when Sayid wasn't being the island's Geek Squad and assassinating/torturing/beating up people, he wasn't too shabby. He was also pretty romantic when he was trying to woo Shannon in the first season. Am I right, ladies? Then there is Jin, the light at the end of the tunnel. Just when I thought the Asian man could only evolve into rice burner loving racers or a contestant on ABDC, Jin proved me wrong. He's smart, sweet and loving, but he can still beat the crap out of someone. When the freighter blew up and he wasn't on the next few episodes, I was genuinely worried about his well being. I really didn't want him to die. If it weren't for Sawyer, Jin would definitely be the hottest guy on the island. (Insert obnoxious hoots and hollars here.)

Lost Lesson 4: Stereotyping is wrong.

To some extent, George Clooney's character in the film Up in the Air was right. It is "faster" to stereotype people. Hell, I'll even say it's just more convenient, but let me tell you, it is wrong, dear friends. You hear me? Wrong! After all, how wrong were the survivors of Flight 815 when they first got on the island? Sawyer accused Sayid of being a terrorist just because he is an Iraqi. Sayid assumed that Sawyer was the felon being escorted by the Air Marshall just because he was the southern man with a bad attitude and a gun. Michael hated Jin and Sun because he assumed that just because they were Korean, they hated all black people, but Jin only hated Michael because he thought that he stole his father-in-law's watch. Also, Jin and Sun were alienated because they couldn't speak english. Because of all their prejudices, it took a while for everyone to bond and work together to try to get off of the island. After opening their minds and having a little more patience, everyone seemed to grow more and more fond of each other.

Lost Lesson 5: Matthew Fox is really boring.

Remember the joke Seth Rogan told to Kather Heigl in the movie, Knocked Up? Well, you should. He asked, "You know what's interesting about Matthew Fox? NOTHING!" And after the first few episodes of Lost, I couldn't agree more. I mean, yeah, we get it, Matthew Fox aka Jack Shepherd, you are a doctor and you have daddy issues. Get over it. Everything he does episode is predictable: bitch/moan, woo Kate then cry over her, suture someone, flashback, daddy issues, back to the present, cue meaningless epiphany, ponder life, fade to black, rinse and repeat. Sure, he is crucial to the plot line of the show (debatable), but grow some balls and I'll fain a little more interest, Doc. With that said...

Lost Lesson 6: Love Triangles are Overrated.

Love triangles are always supposed to be juicy and keep the interest of the audience. Take a look at the kids of Dawson's Creek, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and even Saved by the Bell. They follow one simple formula: 2 Hot Guys + 1 Hot Girl + Crazy Sexual Tension Between All Parties = Successful Love Triangle. Right? Wrong. Lost just happened to f up this formula by using Matthew Fox, who may be easy on the eyes, but happens to be crazy boring. They got the hot girl part right with Kate, but she gets boring too since we are constantly reminded that she is a fugitive on the run. Unfortunately, this cancels out Jack Shepherd. They have one ace in the whole that keeps us entertained for a little bit. This is where Sawyer comes in, but unfortunately Lost still manages to prove this equation false. Watching scenes with Jack and Kate were almost painful since Jack was this lovesick puppy who was trying to act cool around Kate, but he would continue to fail. Kate knew about Jack's feelings and obviously liked the attention, but totally had a thing for Sawyer because let's face it, who wouldn't? But when the Jack would be distant, she felt the need to get physical with Sawyer. And since he is real life grown up, Sawyer would get all mushy and tell Kate know how he felt about her. This scared her and drove her to the good doctor. So she went back and forth between Sawyer and Jack, which got old real quick.

Lost Lesson 7: The Pompous A-Hole Always Gets Laid.

As long as we are on the subject, who would you rather sleep with: boring and lame Dr. Shepherd or hot bad ass con-man, Sawyer? I think the answer is blatantly obvious. If you wouldn't rather sleep with Sawyer, you're un-American. Every girl loves a bad boy (it's science). For some reason, the emotional insecurity and unstableness that they provide you when they decide to come around is so.... well, sexy. The woman on the island are no exception because Sawyer is the guy that gets laid the most. He's bedded Kate many a time, Ana Lucia (despite her huge wanger), Charlotte in the alternate universe, and even the baby doctor, Juliet. Le sigh. Sawyer. He's just the boy all the good girls want.

Lost Lesson 8: Everyone Should Have a Chubby Friend.

I'm pretty in love with Hurley (in a very platonic kind of way). So he sneaks ranch dressing into the jungle and sees dead people, but doggone it, I think it is part of his charm. Out of everyone on the show, he is definitely the most loyal and genuinely caring. Hurley made living on the island bearable--building the golf course and having a food party. He was the comic relief and he was sooo sweet. But when something is going down and Hurley doesn't like it, you best be listening to him. Had Locke listened to Hurley, the hatch probably wouldn't have blown up. Plus, I wouldn't not listen to him because he talks to dead people and stuff. Duh! It makes me wish I had a chubby curly haired friend named Hurley.

Lost Lesson 9: People who you think may be Jesus just may not be.

So, I may have Lostpedia-ed a few theories about the show and this led my to believe that John Locke may be Jesus. I know. I know. I couldn't have been more wrong. But in my defense, there was a lot of evidence pointing to him being Jesus. Locke had these healing powers, loved helping everyone, and the ability to talk to this Jacob (who I thought was God to some extent). Not to mention, he was super wise. Boon hung on his every word. He helped Charlie get over his drug addiction and eased Claire into motherhood. Locke also always spoke about his faith openly. His voice was almost motivating and his words were very sincere, which probably led him to have a lot of people trust him and become his follower. Then Locke decided to die and raise himself from the dead, which is also pretty Jesus-like (Happy Easter). From that point on, it was kind of down hill. Turns out that it was his blind faith that got him killed and made him into the murderous smoke monster. No. Big. Deal. He's a pretty bad man now and I don't know much about him. I just know he's definitely not supposed to be Jesus anymore. (Ruh roh.)

Lost Lesson 10: Don't Take a Beach Day for Granted.

When it's smoldering hot out and all you want to do is lay out, just be glad that you can leave. Somewhere out there, there could be a plane that crashed on a deserted island and they can't leave. These people may have to find away to just get by. And yeah, they may go a little stir crazy and paranoid which may or may not lead them to kill, but they have to do what they need to do to survive. Darwinism. Bitch.

Loose Skin & Old Balls... Gross!

If you're like me, going to the gym can be somewhat of a drag. After a long day at the office, the abundance of caffeine that you had throughout the day is making you crash and burn. (Womp. Womp.) The last thing on your mind is working out. In most cases, you just want to have a drink at the bar and some chicken wings. No big. Let me tell you guys, that is not the answer. Your answer is at the gym. Trust me. Look passed the treadmills and the douchey personal trainers. Go beyond the weight room and the awkward men in spandex. Enter the locker room. In there and only in there, will you find the ultimate motivation: big sweaty naked old people.

Strange, I know, but true. Nothing makes me want to work out more than seeing a locker room full of awkward naked people because they are exactly what I don't want to look like au natural. It's awesome that old people work out, don't get me wrong. They have to get their blood pumping somehow since I'm not willing to accept the fact that they are, you know, "active" in the biblical sense. In fact, I say, more power to them. Live long and prosper or whatever it is you say to old people who are preventing dying at a reasonable age. I'm glad that they have such a positive body image and feel the need to flaunt it. I'm not glad that these awkward naked people feel the need to just hang out... well, awkwardly, while everyone is getting dressed. And if you noticed, these nudists are 40-years-old and beyond. Everyone younger than that is rushing in and out of the locker room and staring at the floor while these blue hairs are having tea. Saggy full frontal tea. (Yes, I hope you vomited in your mouth a little thinking about that because I did.)

I don't know what it's like in the men's locker room, but in the women's, there are big old naked ladies either doing their make up in all their glory or standing underneath the dryer to punish all the young people who have this image emblazoned on their retina for the rest of their lives. (Cringe.) These naked folk are always old and always big. There is a lot of floppiness and poor personal grooming. Things are saggy where they aren't supposed to be. And you realize that gravity is not... well, you realize how gravity can be an evil, evil bitch. 

If the sight of old naked people, literally, flopping around doesn't make you want to fix your own situation and prevent what is to come, I'm sure it will help you develop an eating disorder. You have my guarantee. (Thumbs up.)

I Wanna Drink 'Til I Can't Feelings No Mo.

Binge drinking--what a joy it brings to the youth of the world. It makes the meek strong and the strong invincible. Your perception of the world is clearer after you drink a beer or two. Everyone is a little more friendly and not to mention, a little better looking. A sensation known as the "warm fuzzies" consumes you. The more you drink, the warmer and fuzzier this feeling gets. Scientists believe that when these warm fuzzies are at there peak, you achieve confidence. With this new found confidence, you find the self you want to be--your inner Tyler Durden per say. This leads to dancing, awkward sexual advances, new friends, and an overall good time.

When you're young and a child of the night, there is nothing that can go wrong. Sure you don't remember everything, but you don't need to. It is all in good fun and the next day, you can do it all over again. No hang over. No aches or pains. No post-drinking regrets. Maybe you will swing by McDonald's and grab an Egg McMuffin if you wake up still slightly intoxicated. All things considered, when you are young, you're a fully functioning part of society after a long night of binge drinking.

This all sounds familiar right? Most of us partied with the best of them and then you get old. Those nights of reckless endangerment to our livers have gotten the best of us. I mean, yeah, you still get the warm and fuzzies, but you definitely pay for it afterward. After a long night, let alone a full weekend of drinking, you're grouchy and achy and looking for the antacid. The sun becomes the Devil in the morning and burns through your comforter and pierces your retina forcing you to wake up and feel the shame of old age. Every part of you is sore and you look like you death, but still better than Kristen Stewart because she's just haggard.

Oh, and remember how awful it was the first few times when you got drunk because you didn't know better so you always drank too much, and vomited everything that you ate that day, but then it stops because you realize how much you can drink without getting sick? Yeah, after a while, you start to drink less and less because you have more responsibilities for being an adult. Apparently, being a grown up means you can't always have fun when you want to. (The word, adult, is acutually Finnish for boring responsible person who goes to bed early, I think, but don't quote me on that.) Anyways, you forget that you can only imbibe so much alcohol and you go overboard. Thus, your body regresses to the stages of your freshman year of college but to the infinity power, which basically means instead of throwing up what you had that day for a couple hours, you turn into The Exorcist and upchuck everything you had in the past month. Not cute.

I guess, there is a set period of time in your life where your able to party hardy every night of the week and then function normally the next morning, but there is no warning to when that time ends. So, I'm telling you as my peers, colleagues, and friends, heed my warning. Alcoholic beverages are all fun and games for the evening, but apparently, you feel like death the next day.

Well done, Alcohol. You may have won this battle, but consider this war. I've only learned my lesson... this time. (Insert shifty eyes here.)

(Note: If you would like to imagine what I sound like after this weekends festivities, please re-read the blog as Peter Brady going through puberty.)