BeehiveHairdresser.com

So yesterday I came back to work all prepared to pretend to work for the first two hours of the day while I was to begin writing nearly real time posts again, and found out that my employer decided to “fix” a “glitch” in the world of IT that had allowed me to log into the domain that I actually need to work on while still being wrongly assigned to a different domain. 

Unfortunately in doing so the company didn’t assign me to the proper domain, and I wasn’t able to log in to my desktop at all yesterday.  This left me fully bored as I had to conserve my Treo battery in order to waste the entire day on the different Treo programs for the full eight hours of work.  There was a good 15 minutes that I powered it down - for shame.

I also had this conversation with seven, I kid you not seven techs from all over the world yesterday:

Beehive:  I can’t log into my desktop.

Tech:  Hmm… that’s odd.  You’re not locked out.  Try the caps lock.

Beehive:  Already been done.

Tech:  Try shutting down and starting up.

Beehive:  Did that too, but I’ll give it another whirl.  Still not working.

Tech:  Okay, here’s you’re new password reset.

Beehive:  It still doesn’t work.

Tech:  Try logging into “XYZ” domain.

Beehive:  I don’t have the option to do that on this desktop.

Tech:  You have to.  That’s what you’re assigned.

Beehive:  I seriously don’t have that.

Tech:  Oh,ummm…I think i know what the problem here is.  I will need to get my supervisor approval in order to fix this for you.  So I’ll have to get back to you on this.

Then, I think that there was a series of murders and or suicides that happened in my companies IT department, since I never heard back from any of them, which forced me to not only have to keep calling the IT groups back every half an hour to check their status, but it also made me struggle to keep a Friendly’s Honey BBQ Chicken SuperMelt deuce from escaping my body while I anticipated phone calls that I never ended up receiving.

This truly made me earn my money yesterday moreso than any other day that I can remember for a very long time.

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So I need to let you all on at least one big fat secret, and tempt you all with one more secret that cannot be fully disclosed just yet - in time, just wait - I promise to tell you all when the time is right as it will be a juicy one.

Anyways, the big big secret is that I can disclose today is that I was on vacation for the past week!

Yes, yes, I know.  It’s the shocker of the summer that will be felt for weeks to come, and quite possibly… forever…

See, the Cheese and I went down to her wonderful friend G’s splendid home well South of the Mason-Dixon line in North Carolina for some much needed R & R.  I somehow managed to drive all the way down to the North Carolina border with Cheese as navagater, and some really amazing things happened to me along the way.  I picked up a slight twang in my speech, I lost any and all positive considerations toward social programs for minorities, as well as my picking up a raging smoking habit too.  Those cigarettes were just too low cost and cool looking to pass up.

Some of you may have noticed differences about this past weeks postings.  Such as beehivehairdresser.com post counts having gone down to roughly only one per day, my mysterious way of not being at the blogger happy hour last week, and my lacking of responses to any and all comments.  If you did notice these things, then my friend you are almost as amazing as I am - almost. 

This lacking of my ability or rather my lacking desire to respond to comments while vacating turned out to be a good thing, since I seemed to have offended some people with some of my bottled posts that I had written while in a cranky hangover mood prior to my vacating, and let me just say that for the record I did write that Harry Potter post out of pure ignorance, and it was so worth every letter of it.

When I finally get all of the photos uploaded and whatnot, I’ll be able to start posting some of the stories from the trip, but for now, just know that my first trip to the South where the “Good Ole’ Boys” live sure has opened my eyes to a part of America that I thought I would never enjoy, and found that I really liked it down there.  Plus seeing the South really only solidified my previous thoughts of Yakov Smirnov being a genius, because he couldn’t have said it better when he said, “America!  What a country…”

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Yes, that’s the name of my girlfriends blog…

Anyways, last night I was sitting on the Cheese’s bed before going out to dinner, and I looked over at the framed picture she has of me on the beach from last summer that is next to her bed. 

All that I could think of as I sat there waiting for the Cheese to finally be ready was, “Man, I really look like a douche bag in that picture.”

Cheese:  What’s wrong Beehive?

Beehive:  I look like a total douche bag in that picture.

Cheese:  (grabbing the framed picture) Noooo.  Don’t say that.  This is my favorite picture of you.

Beehive:  It is?

Cheese:  Yes, I kiss it every night before I go to sleep.

Cheese then began to stroke and pet the frame, and that was the exact moment that I witnessed first hand way too much information - TMI that I would have never have believed had I not seen myself.  Yeash…

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This week I present to you a very special photo.  It’s not of a bee, but it is of another flying insect.  One that some people would say is even cooler and or scarier than a bee is.

It’s a dragonfly, and it’s sitting on what I believe to be some kobold gayfeather growing in my backyard.

Just enjoy the close up of this really amazing insect- its face, eyes, legs, and wings.

WOW! 

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Here’s an email response from someone that I emailed out of thanks for stopping by and leaving a comment on my Katie Cut post.  This person claims to be a man, but ”his” MySpace page states that he is a she, but whatever… the point is that this is their email back to me - quoted word for word.

“ No, I am Rodney–Dee’s husband, and just came across your website as my daughter was looking for hairstyles.  My wife is a hairstylist, and she tells story after story of women who have husbands like you who refuse to let them have a brain and get the cut they want to get.  Everybody copies someone’s cut, including you with your buzzed hair.  What do you think women do every day by taking a picture of somebody’s cut into their nearest salon to show their hairstylist the style they want?  Hello?  Is anybody home?  They copy someone like Katie’s cut, because there’s nothing to copy on most celebrities–it’s stringy hair.  Cover up their faces, and in most cases, you have plain, homely hair!”

Anyways, I’m totally not one to toot my own horn or anything, but I think that I just may well be really really famous in the Rodney/Dee household, and I wouldn’t be shocked to find out that Rodney and Dee had a good anger bang over my disliking the idea of the Katie Cut being a mass cookie cutter type of hairstyle.

I never thought of this until this very moment, but someone, somewhere out there… is reading this blog as a form of foreplay…

GULP!!! 

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Lately I’ve been doing alot of thinking about what drinking beer or hard liquor does to me.

And I’ve come to the realization that beer and booze are what makes me feel as though I am missing out on something if I’m not out somewhere.

When I’m out having a drink I find that I never want to go home.  I never want the bar to close, I never want the people drinking to go home, and I never want to miss anything.   

When I’m out somewhere with a cocktail in hand I’m usually quite bored with the surroundings and find that there really isn’t much of anything to miss.  Yet somehow with each of the slightest dribbles of alcohol to my tongue the alcohol makes me feel as if I don’t stay out until sunrise I will miss it all.

What exactly I might miss… I have no idea…

Thankfully I usually have a reason to leave the drinks behind, but when I don’t… ohhhhh man…

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Saturday evening as I went to exit the Manhattan bound side of the R train at Union Street I happened to look down and spotted a black tennis sneaker laid out perfectly - with exception to it being in the middle of the subway turnstile, and missing its mirrored opposite.

I’m sure that you’re saying to yourself right now that this pictured sneaker is turned on its side, and there’s a very good reason for this - I tripped over it.

I’m a klutz, what can I say.  I’ve been one ever since being an adolescent, and haven’t been able to break from the klutz chains since.

Anyways, I spotted the sneaker, laying there perfectly under the turnstile, as if the owner of the sneaker was in such a rush that as they ran for the R train, they literally ran out of their sneaker - and didn’t realize it until the subway doors closed.  So I giggled to myself about the poor sap who lost his sneaker while rushing to catch the subway, and in doing so I stumbled myself through the turnstile and tripped over the sneaker in the perfect Chevy Chase fashion.

So there you all have it - I’m a dork.

Yet this doesn’t explain who the dork was that lost his sneaker…

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So some of you may already know this, and or even worse (if you are over age 12) anticipated the release of the new Harry Potter book.

I just wanted to extend my thoughts about this book to those adults out there who have just wasted another day in their lives by reading this…

YOU HAVE ALL JUST WASTED ANOTHER DAY OF YOUR LIVES!!!  THIS BEING THE 7th BOOK MEANS THAT YOU WASTED A WEEK OF YOUR LIVES BY READING ALL SEVEN BOOKS!

I hope that you’re all happy with your choice reading at a level suited for 9 - 12 year olds.  Seriously keep enjoying yourselves, and if the Smurfs ever come back to Saturday morning television be sure to let me know.

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So I have this favorite little burger place that’s in Park Slope, it’s called Brooklyn Burger Bar.  For an actual review of this place, click here.

It’s by far my favorite burger joint in Brooklyn because I don’t really frequent any other, they have good buffalo burgers, and you can get sweet potato fries at no extra charge with your burger deluxe.

Mmm Mmm Good.

I’m not here to give an actual review of the entire place - other than it is really tasty, affordable, and the bar hasn’t yet been overly loud at any time that I’ve eaten there - so I give it a five stars. 

Did I mention that at least one of the waitresses has a big hairy mole on her arm, and the first time I saw it I thought she had a long haired hamster climbing up her body???  Well she does, and I did think it.

Anyways, I found myself eating there this weekend with the Cheese. 

We both knew what burgers we would order, but needed to ask about the beer situation.

When the very short and very young looking blond waitress timidly came up and asked us if we wanted to start with any drinks the Cheese asked what beers they had.

Waitress:  Oh…umm… we have lots of different bottled beers, but no tap.

Cheese:  So what beers do you actually have? 

Waitress:  There’s really alot.  We have a huge selection.  If you name one, I’m sure we’ll have it.

Cheese:  Okay, can I get a hoegaarden?

Waitress:  Sure.

Beehive:  I’ll have one too.

Waitress:  Okay, I’ll be right back.

(two minutes pass)

Waitress returned empty handed.

Waitress:  We’re out of hoegaarden.

Cheese:  Okay, can I get something similar to a hoegaarden?

Waitress:  Ummm… do you know a name of any beers similiar to it, cause we really have alot of different beers.

Beehive:  Is heffevison similar?

Cheese:  Yes, I’ll have a heffevison.

Waitress:  Oh, we’re out of that too.

Cheese:  Well what beers do you have in stock?

Waitress:  Alot, but we’re out of those two.

Cheese:  We need time to think.

Waitress walks away, and the Cheese goes to the bar to explore their “wide variety”

Cheese returns…

Cheese:  They have seven beers and they’re all domestic!

In an amazing turn of events the waitress still somehow earned a 20 plus % tip.

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Remember that steam pipe explosion that happened this past Wednesday evening?  The one that sent lots of tiny particles of asbestos into the air?  No?  Well CC John was there and could tell you all about it, just click here.

So there’s some more news about this story besides the good news of CC John’s survival - the city is re-opening up the blast area to the public.

Thankfully some 18 air tests have shown that the air level for asbestos is at zero, however, ground samples are indeed coming back positive for asbestos.  Last night after the 18 air tests came backnegative the city sprayed down all of the buildings in the area in an attempt to remove the asbestos that was on them - hmmm…doesn’t spraying the facade of a building that is contaminated with asbestos with a high pressure hose send whatever is on the facade (asbestos) into the air???  Anyone… Anyone… Mr. Wizard?

Mr. Wizard:  Yes, yes it does.

No word has come back on the air level safety since the spraying, but somehow by opening the area back up to the public the city declares ”It’s now safe”- I would think the complete opposite.

So as we all pass through the Grand Central / Chrysler building area let us all breath freely (assuming that the asbestos that once again flew through the air landed safely (har har) on the street level), and float our way through the air - cause that’s just about the only safe way to get through the area right now.

Remember, you don’t want to track tiny particles of asbestos wherever you walk - cause it will eventually end up in your lungs - so keep floating. 

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Check out this bumble bee enjoying life on the bloom of a bee balm.

The bee balm has a sweet scent that can be smelled my by nose from up to roughly ten feet away, and the bees find it to be simply irresistible.  Bee balm appears to be to bees what cat nip is to cats - serious entertainment.

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NYC 2030 is what the politicians of today envision New York City to look like and operate as in the year 2030. 

The NYC 2030 plan goes in depth as to how we will use our land, keep our water supply, transport ourselves from point a to point b, obtain clean energy, improve our air quality, and reduce our global footprint to help subside the rise of temperature and possibly stop global climate change.

What the plan doesn’t go into is this: How will actual New Yorkers be physically? 

The answer to that questions is simple, most New Yorkers will be deaf and or cripples.

Need proof of my theory?  For that we need to first go underground to the subway system.  There we will find everything we need to know about New York City’s future large deaf population.

Keep an eye out for these little gadgets, the iPod, or better yet, just close your eyes and listen. 

On a crowded subway car you’ll be able to hear about a dozen of these things blaring music (usually of bad taste) into the ears of people young and old. 

Most people in NYC have a door to door commute of 30 to 45 minutes each way.  Multiply that by two, exponentiate that number by volume full blast, and your answer equals permanent hearing loss. 

Now multiply that by millions of NYC commuters in the year 2007 and your answer is millions of deaf NYC residents in 2030. 

Still with me?  Good.

Now for the future cripples.  Next time you step outside begin taking a look at what people are wearing on their feet, and try not to develop a foot fetish while doing so.

You’ll fast come to realize that most people who outwardly have the appearance of being someone that would likely be alive in the year 2030 (someone under age 45 now) is currently wearing these little numbers on their feet…

Flip flops…

Now take a look at the average flip flop that people have on.  You will find that most of these flip flops give zero arch support, and are only barely clinging onto the foot by either a thong (pictured) or a small strap across the toe joints. 

You might say to yourself that the person who is wearing the flip flop is just going for a short walk, but that is rarely the case in NYC.  The average New Yorker doesn’t utilize a car and walks miles upon miles on any given day. 

Each and every step that the individual pounds into the pavement without any arch support is creating the groundwork for awful foot pains that will fast become crippling to the point that any step, including with the use of arch support soles will create unbearable pain to the point of making the individual give up on the idea of walking anywhere, thereby creating the only way of mobility for these people who mistreated their feet to be a wheelchair. 

The NYC 2030 plan is a good one in theory, but we here at beehivehairdresser feel that the politicians should take another look at it, and set the groundwork to make NYC transportaion safe and quick for the masses of future deaf and cripples that will need to be easily mobilized throughout the city in the year 2030 - which weren’t taken into consideration when they wrote up the transportation chapters of the plan.

In either case, we here at beehivehairdresser look forward to seeing the huddles of people sitting in wheelchair circles together, and talking via sign language about the good old days - the days that they themselves used to ruin their very own futures.

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MILFs were a stockboys best friend.  They were just about the only little piece of joy that us stockboys could get during an average day of physical labor while being surrounded by the elderly and the ugly - say for the super special occasional stripper - let alone the MILF stripper, who is an entire post to herself.

Anyways, there was this one MILF that all of us dudes that worked in the store called Houston, based off of the fact that she had a stiking resemblence to Houston the porn star.

 

The faux Houston never had a wedding band on, and her arrivals to our little discount drug store was each of our walking wet dreams. 

She always dressed to sexy yet elegant, had her make up done to a tee, each strand of her hair looked as though it was meticulously placed in its own personal spot, and she never had anything but the most perfect tan.  That tan was always something that I personally always wondered about - particularly how little there might have been to the actual tan lines, if any.  Plus she always gave us a little eye contact and the slightest of smiles, sometimes an actual hello.  Wow!

So if one of the guys wasn’t up on the stores floor or hadn’t worked a day when faux Houston came in, everyone that worked would relay the fact that the other had missed out on seeing that fine piece of tail.  Yes, I called her tail.

Then one day she decided to wear some loose fitting gray sweatpants, didn’t have her hair all done up, and just looked a little “frumpy”. 

I just sort of assumed that she was feeling a little under the weather or just didn’t have time to get ready before running her errands.  The next time I saw her she was all done up again, and was happy as a clam.

But then, tragedy struck, and she decided to have more and more “frumpy days” for herself instead of looking like a MILF to the 7th degree.

My guess is that she just sort of gave up on finding herself someone to enjoy her time with, and in doing so allowed me to see the walking slow death of her youthful MILFyness.   

It was a darn shame. 

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Saturday night I was walking up Union Street from 4th Avenue to Grand Army Plaza, and I saw not one, not two, but five women sporting their own renditions of the Katie Cut.

FIVE!!! In only five blocks!!! 

I can’t fathom what the rest of Park Slope is succumbing to.

None of these renditions looked good, none!  Nothing was wrong physically at glance with any of these five women, except for their really flat out awful butchered haircuts. 

This is what I was trying to avoid with my week devoted to the dangers of the Katie Holmes’ short hairstyle - the Katie Cut.

I was able to catch one of these Katie Cut’s with my camera, take a look for yourself.

That ladies haircut right there was and still is one sorry sight for my sore eyes indeed.

Seeing these women walking around with their butchered heads of hair makes me hope that we can collectively as a whole nip this bad haircut sensation in the bud, by plastering flyer’s of the now infamous Katie Cut photo in the window of all hairdressers everywhere, with “We Will Not Give You This Hairstyle” above the photo.  Feel free to print out this post and drop it off in your local hairdressers window.

WE WILL NOT GIVE YOU THIS HAIRSTYLE!!!

Thank you all in advance for helping spread the word to stop this awful trend of a hairstyle.

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This morning I saw the little brother of a kid that I grew up with.  I have long since forgotten the little brothers name, but he is still very recognizable to me, and outwardly appears to be one of the most laid back and relaxed human beings that I have ever seen.

Anyways, the little brother is probably around 24 years old now and he was walking hand in hand with his girlfriend.

Seeing them together made me realize that there are some truths to the old saying that men date women that remind them of their mothers and vice versa with women and their fathers.  This since the girlfriend is the spitting image of his mother.

I’m not talking about a younger version spitting image, I’m talking about a girl who is in her early 20s that looks like she is pushing 50.  Everything about her screams I’ve had four kids, am a soccer mom, I don’t have time to work out or pick out clothes that are flattering to my body - I’m a mom - she even sports the long perm circa 1983 - 1987 that soccer moms of Brooklyn had.

Seeing them only made me wonder how did he find that girl.  Out of all the women in the world where and how did he find one around his age that is outwardly pushing the end of middle age while sporting a long perm  circa 1983 - 1987, and the only logical reason I could come up with is that he is dating a cousin from his mothers side. 

As the saying goes incest is best, but in my mind incest is gross, and I’m sure that they would agree. 

So I’m figuring that they really are cousins and that they have found a way to skirt around the whole disgusting incestuous relationship thing, and have decided that they really aren’t committing incest since she is his cousin on his mothers side - if its in the same family but without the same last name -  it’s not incest. 

That’s there motto - I assume.

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