So I just had a coworker come up into my cube with a question regarding some workload that someone had given her.  Without getting the specifics, it’s a task that cannot be done.  It simply can’t, and there’s no way for us or anyone to do anything with it.

“Can you help me out?  I’m not sure what Babs is looking for on this stuff.  Why is she asking me to do this?”

“Babs is fuckin’ crazy”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?”

Okay, so my “Babs is fuckin’ crazy” comment came out under my breath without my realizing it, but the “Why does everyone keep saying that?” line brought tears of laughter to my eyes. 

Sometimes people ask me where and how I came up with the name BeehiveHairdresser for this here blog.  Unfortunately the real story isn’t all that exciting, but I was recently asked if it was due to my being a “Beehive” hairdresser of the urban slang vernacular, number two.

For those of you who are like me, and have never heard of doing a beehive, it is: “When you’re doing a girl in the ass, and before you cum you pull out and cum in her hair, and then with your penis you twirl her hair into a sticky hairdo resembling a beehive.”

Classy move, I know…

It actually sounds like such a wild and hard scenario to pull off in the heat of passion, but yes, from now on this is what will be told forth as being the truth behind the name BeehiveHairdresser, and I can’t wait to see the reactions of the inquisitive faces.

Lately when my alarm clock has been ringing to wake me I find that I pull the covers back, pull myself up off of my tummy, look over at the alarm blaring at me from across the room and say to myself, “That a$$hole!” 

No, I’m not calling the alarm an a$$hole, I’m actually calling myself the a$$hole for having set the alarm that wakes me up to get ready for an unfulfilling day at a job that feels as though it is a hacksaw cutting through my brain, leaving a trail of an endless workflow of boredom in its wake.

Well, it finally happened to me.  Someone, or a group of people stole part of my identity – my credit card. 

 

Which I’m told has nothing to do with the phishing call that I received on Monday.

I found this all out last night when I got a phone call from my credit card company, to which I wrote off as a possible phishing scam, so I called the credit card company back at the number I have listed as customer service. 

Customer service informed me that my account has been placed on hold due to recent odd activity.  Specifically a purchase of $1.74 for some type of Microsoft product on Monday, and a .79 purchase in Australia. 

Word to the wise…if you’re going to charge things illegally on my account, purchase items that might not look so off the wall requiring my card to get shut off. 

And to the person or persons who stole my card info and or used it without my consent, I’m from Brooklyn and went to high school on Staten Island, so I hope to find you (all) one day, and when I do find you, I will first drop you like a pineapple, then I will gut you, glue your jaw to your skull, and then use your head as a soccer ball, and then when I’m done playing around with it mail it to your mother on her birthday.

This morning I was riding the D train with my friend Jay, and I happened to get a seat after Pacific Street, with that seat happening to be directly next to a gal whom I’ve seen on the trains for a good three years – she gets off in Manhattan at 34th Street – Herald Square, usually.

After sitting a few minutes I noticed out of the corner of my eyes that the gal was nodding off, literally.  She wasn’t just asleep, she was asleep with her head wobbling left and right, with a good minute there of it being back against the wall. Her head was flailing around so much I thought that she might actually be an actress practicing for an audition of a remake to the Exorcist.

Jay and I couldn’t stop laughing at the head movements, which just so happens to be one of those neurotic things that I worry about when I know that I’ve been sleeping oddly on the subway.

Anyway, her head kept creeping over to me, making a deep tilt left, allowing her head to come within about an inch of my right shoulder for a good five minutes.

Then while our train was pulling into the station at 34th Street her head finally made it all the way onto my shoulder.  I felt it land on my shoulder, and I froze. 

I figured she must have been really exhausted to have allowed such a thingto happen, and since she was a regular train rider that didn’t seem like a loony, I thought about just letting her rest there. 

Her head was there for maybe a second before she woke up and pulled her head straight up and forward.  She didn’t apologize for leaning all the way onto my shoulder – as if she thought that I wouldn’t have realized that her head went all the way onto my shoulder?!?! 

She also didn’t get off the train.

So at 42nd Street all three of us got off, the gal went off to transfer to a downtown train, and Jay and I couldn’t stop our giggling as we parted ways over the entire thing.