When I get older losing my hair, many years from now....
My employer has just issued me a Blackberry, which I will need in my new assignment. It feels a little bit like a Brand New Service Revolver. I'm also slightly worried I have come full circle back to the life I left behind in the States, tied to an electronic tether. Still, it is shiny....
Of course, I can't talk at all on the internet about what I will be doing, as per usual. Suffice it to say it has the potential to be completely and totally awesome. Or to suck royally. By extension, it gives me the opportunity to excel monumentally or fail spectacularly. But hey, I've never been one to shy away from a challenge.
I will say that I intend to make better suiting choices this time around. Brand New Service Revolver or not, I refuse to wear a uniform. I think having crazy, asymmetrical, rock star hair gives me a little freedom with clothing. For instance, I recently bought the World's Most Ridiculous Jacket. And I'm not kidding, it is seriously ridiculous. It's military style, but will copious amounts of ribbon detail. As though Schwarzkoff got drunk and passed out, only to wake up in a craft store with some massive alterations to his lapel. I'm pretty sure Michael Jackson wore it in the mid-nineties.
If I still had my conservatively red, conservatively layered shoulder-length bob, this would of course be unacceptable. But with a haircut that is a cross between Victoria Beckham and Kate Gosselin, well, anything can be pulled off. I will be working with one of the top five politicians in New Zealand's conservative party, so we shall see if they agree.
If they complain, I'll just remind them that I'm there to be a human rights conscience, a role that I feel is only supported by crazy hair. 'You want my crazy hair on that wall, you NEED my crazy hair on that wall...' It's true. Imagine that Joanne Thirty-Four with her grandmother's pearls is telling you something violates human rights. You might listen, but not necessarily be swayed. Now, if Hey Look At My Hair, No Seriously LOOK At It tells you something violates human rights, you're going to be all, 'dude, I get it. Point taken.'
Speaking of my crazy hair, it has also led to a recent resurgence of being carded to buy alcohol. This is mildly laughable. I mean, I'm flattered, but the drinking age here is 18. And I've spent almost as much time on this side of 18 as I did on the other. Which is slightly terrifying when you think about it.
I wonder if I will still have crazy hair when I forty. Or sixty. Frankly, I wonder why I never had crazy hair before now. Today, I saw a lady in her 60s (if she was a day). She was wearing Anna Wintour's bob, but also sporting skin tight, stretch, houndstooth pants with zippered back pockets. My first thought was, 'oh honey. That's a bit young, isn't it?' Then my crazy hair slapped me in the face and said, 'you shut your MOUTH. I hope we're like her when we grow up.'
Of course, I can't talk at all on the internet about what I will be doing, as per usual. Suffice it to say it has the potential to be completely and totally awesome. Or to suck royally. By extension, it gives me the opportunity to excel monumentally or fail spectacularly. But hey, I've never been one to shy away from a challenge.
I will say that I intend to make better suiting choices this time around. Brand New Service Revolver or not, I refuse to wear a uniform. I think having crazy, asymmetrical, rock star hair gives me a little freedom with clothing. For instance, I recently bought the World's Most Ridiculous Jacket. And I'm not kidding, it is seriously ridiculous. It's military style, but will copious amounts of ribbon detail. As though Schwarzkoff got drunk and passed out, only to wake up in a craft store with some massive alterations to his lapel. I'm pretty sure Michael Jackson wore it in the mid-nineties.
If I still had my conservatively red, conservatively layered shoulder-length bob, this would of course be unacceptable. But with a haircut that is a cross between Victoria Beckham and Kate Gosselin, well, anything can be pulled off. I will be working with one of the top five politicians in New Zealand's conservative party, so we shall see if they agree.
If they complain, I'll just remind them that I'm there to be a human rights conscience, a role that I feel is only supported by crazy hair. 'You want my crazy hair on that wall, you NEED my crazy hair on that wall...' It's true. Imagine that Joanne Thirty-Four with her grandmother's pearls is telling you something violates human rights. You might listen, but not necessarily be swayed. Now, if Hey Look At My Hair, No Seriously LOOK At It tells you something violates human rights, you're going to be all, 'dude, I get it. Point taken.'
Speaking of my crazy hair, it has also led to a recent resurgence of being carded to buy alcohol. This is mildly laughable. I mean, I'm flattered, but the drinking age here is 18. And I've spent almost as much time on this side of 18 as I did on the other. Which is slightly terrifying when you think about it.
I wonder if I will still have crazy hair when I forty. Or sixty. Frankly, I wonder why I never had crazy hair before now. Today, I saw a lady in her 60s (if she was a day). She was wearing Anna Wintour's bob, but also sporting skin tight, stretch, houndstooth pants with zippered back pockets. My first thought was, 'oh honey. That's a bit young, isn't it?' Then my crazy hair slapped me in the face and said, 'you shut your MOUTH. I hope we're like her when we grow up.'
posted by E. at
9:18 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home