flyer girls gone bad
Yes. It is another pirated essay.
I am quick with that stuff you know.
This day’s pirated essay was written in 2001 which was a pretty exciting year in Seattle, and maybe not the appropriate year to move there since it was the year Seattle real estate would be at its highest [right before the dot com crash that would sink Seattle real estate into the gutter forever] and also there was that little problem with Darth Vader policemen stomping up and down streets in formation gassing every resident they could catch outside. It was originally titled “Ow My Eyebrow.” This time around I am calling it —
flyer girls gone bad
There is an incredible and once every few decades moon shining tonight.
I cannot see it though.
Seattle skies are clouded over.
This is why I will eventualy leave Seattle.
I can never see the sky here.
I get a lot of mail about things I have said on the message board. And things I have said on other message boards. All that is about the World Trade Center though. [Author’s note: I am one of the few people stupid enough to move into Downtown Seattle at the exact moment the WTO riots struck. Wow. Life With Pepper Spray. And I did not even own a turtle suit.] Or Writing. I am so tired of talking about both. Not because either is unimportant. Both are important. But because I find myself in every conversation talking about one or the other and for my heart I need to talk about something else.
Something frivolous maybe.
Something beautiful maybe.
Something I am missing maybe.
Something like —
My hair dresser was dating someone in Canada for a while. During that spell she gave the Canadian border guys serious grief. I have never gotten exactly the details of this grief but I do know every single Canadian border guy knew her name.
One day they were giving her grief back.
So she gave them the finger and ran the border.
This is a hillarious image to me.
My tattooed semi sane purple haired hairdresser giving Mounties the finger and running the Candian Border in a compact sedan.
She knew, going home, there could be hell to pay. Okay, for sure would be hell to pay. Or at least Candian Mounties hell to pay. The Mounties all knew her. And her car. She was resigned to consequences.
They held her for five hours.
She got lectures. She had to give statements. Fill out forms. She got to stare a lot at spots on walls in unfortunately decorated Mounty buildings.
Then they let her go.
This does not concern me about national security. They knew she was not a terrorist. She was a mad hair dresser. Which is different and generally does not result in Space Needles blowing up. And I figure if they jailed her. Well. They would have to explain why they stopped her which was because she gave them grief so they were giving her grief back which is sort of personal for Mounties if you ask me and also if they put her in jail they would have to give her dinner.
They let her go just about dinner time.
There are stories like this every time I visit my hairdresser. I like the lastest one most though because, well —
The latest episode at my hairdresser’s is, The Flyer Girl Gone Bad. (Flyer Girls are girls — or in the case of Flyer Boys boys — who hand out flyers promoting the salon.) Flyer Girls Gone Bad though I guess are pretty bad because the Flyer Girl Gone Bad broke into the purse closet, stole a hair dresser’s credit cards, and went on a shopping spree at The Gap.
[To me that is your first sign there is something really off about the Flyer Girl Gone Bad. Who, with thousands of dollars of credit at their finger tips, would pick The Gap first? Jeez. Bad priorities.]
At any rate. I danced into the salon the next day and the Flyer Girl Gone Bad was THE topic of conversation that day and also not very smart because while I had my hair in foil under a dryer that Flyer Girl Gone Bad made an appearance on the corner outside the salon.
The salon emptied.
The whole staff headed out for justice.
And there I was with my hair, my foil, the dryer, and the lone survivor of the Flyer Girl Gone Bad Incident. Left behind no doubt to guard the purse closet. People did come back. Very excited. There had been Bad Flyer Girl drama on the street. And tragically washed me out too early.
My hair turned out okay in the end. It had to be re-foiled and my stylist in her excitement snipped off part of my eyebrow after she got back. This might be a problem. It is sort of reminiscent of the day I put my face through a windshield that shaved off half my eyebrow and left me looking like a surprised dog for three months till the eyebrow grew back. But hey. They scared the hell out of the Flyer Girl.
Love and Kisses,
Your People For The Ethical Treatment of Eyebrows Adams Girl
where this came from :
seemaxrun thoughts 2001