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Aug 03,2007
Laura on Life
by Laura Snyder

“Hello, is this Al?”…

“It isn’t?  I dialed the right number, I think.”…

“No I am not losing my mind.”…

“Okay, no, I guess you aren’t who I was trying to call.”…

“Well, listen.  Do you mind if I ask you a question anyway?”…

“No, not a personal question.”…

“No, this is not a crank call.  I merely dialed the right number and the wrong person answered.  That’s not to say that there’s anything wrong with you, of course.  But I still need to ask you a question.”…

“Okay, then:  Who is the Hard Rocker who was rumored to bite the heads off chickens during his show?”…

“No, this isn’t Cash Cab, I’m in a beauty salon!  Now please answer the question!”

This ridiculous phone conversation happened in my presence as I was getting my hair cut.  Somehow the subject of what celebrity was or was not decapitating various birds on stage came up in a beauty salon full of women.  Women who I would’ve otherwise considered sane.

The answer was on the tip up our tongues (or on the tip of a pair of scissors, depending on which end you were on).  But none of us could think of who it was.

The conversation started off fairly mundane and headed toward the bizarre shortly thereafter.  My hair stylist mentioned a TV show that aired the night before, about former musicians and their wives and lives.  Then someone mentioned Gene Simmons from KISS and wondered what he was up to.  Another woman wondered if he was just as insane now as he used to be and then…that rocker… the one who allegedly has a taste for chicken heads and possibly some other assorted not-quite-real-birds.  What was his name?

As we tried to think of it, my hair stylist became visibly more agitated and I became more and more concerned about the state of my hair.  She was distracted and I wondered if she remembered that I only wanted a trim.  Snip, snip, snip.

I tried desperately to come up with the name if only to save my hair from being butchered, but I kept coming up empty.  “Boy George? No? Are you sure it wasn’t Gene Simmons?”

I was just throwing out names hoping she’d light on one and start working on the other side of my head.  It was getting mighty short on that side.

She said, “No, No.  This is going to keep me up all night if we don’t come up with the answer!” 

Is she kidding?  I thought.  I won’t be able to show my face at home, if there is no hair around it.

Another hair stylist said, “Al would know.”

“Then call Al”, I practically begged her.   Snip, snip, snip.  “Do it now!”

She stared at me.  She probably thought I was some kind of lunatic.  “Okay, Okay”, she said.  She was smart enough not to mess with a lunatic.  There’s no telling what I had under that big tent-bib they put on me.

Al, I thought.  That sounds right.  Al Roker, Al Gore, Al Pacino, Al…ibaba.   No, no, no!

“Hello, is this Al?... It isn’t?”

On no, I thought.   I will be bald if we don’t figure out the answer!

“Ask him anyway!”  I shouted.  Maybe she needed to think I was a lunatic.

Snip, snip, snip.  Oh heavens, there will be nothing left but the…

“He said he thinks I’m a prank caller and he hung up on me.  Can you top that?”

Top.  Cop.  Copper.  Cooper.  Al Cooper.  “Alice Cooper!”  I fairly shouted in my relief.

And just like that, my hairstylist stopped snipping, picked up the hair dryer and my very short tresses were saved.

“Oh,thank goodness!”, she said.  “Now I’ll be able to sleep tonight!”

Yeah, I thought, and I’ll be able to go home!

You can reach Laura at lsnyder@lauraonlife.com, or visit her website at www.lauraonlife.com.

1502 times read

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Camping . . . So it Goes by Jason_Love posted on Aug 31,2006

Did you enjoy this article? Rating: 4.45Rating: 4.45Rating: 4.45Rating: 4.45Rating: 4.45 (total 11 votes)

  • An Indian woman author, Suman Chopra, in an article titled "WOSSIP ( WOMEN GOSSIP )", quoting an ancient African proverb says : "If a woman speaks two words, take one and leave the other". Suman further says "Notwithstanding who indulges in gossip, for some reason, it is an established fact that 90% of the women gossip with women, and the men with men. The invention of telephone greatly enlarged the area of operation and shifted the sphere of gossip's influence from the sun-bathed rooftop to far off by-lanes of the city and even beyond. The saying goes that if men must walk a mile, the women must talk an hour - it is their exercise" [ http://www.sawf.org/newedit/edit10162000/index.asp ]. However, the ‘fears of life’, as experienced in a women’s salon, and then expressed by the author, Laura, in her comedy article have almost corroborated the wordings of the poetry, “Hymn to Death”, composed by the 19th century English poet Laureate, Alfred Austin, who had written : I LOVE THE DOUBT, THE DARK, THE FEAR---THAT STILL SURROUNDETH ALL THINGS HERE. The 20th century American poetess, Sophie Letitia Tunnell, had similarly written : FEAR IS A SLINKING CAT I FIND---BENEATH THE LILACS OF MY MIND. Women of different kinds think, talk, walk, and take bath differently. When Julius Caesar saw some wealthy foreign women in Rome carrying dogs, and monkeys in their arms, he had retorted : “Do the women in their country never bear children ?” The 20th century English poetess, Mrs. Frances Macdonald Cornford, after seeing a fat lady from a train, had said : O FAT WHITE WOMAN WHOM NO BODY LOVES---WHY DO YOU WALK THROUGH THE FIELDS IN GLOVES ? The 19th century English classical scholar and poet, Alfred Edward Housman, after seeing a similar fat woman, many-many years earlier, had said : O FAT WHITE WOMAN WHOM NO BODY SHOOTS---WHY DO YOU WALK THROUGH THE FIELDS IN BOOTS ? But as far as the author of this article, Laura, is concerned, I wish to reproduce the wordings of the 17th century English poet, Sir John Suckling ( who had died at the prime age of 33 ) : “SHE IS PRETTY TO WALK WITH, AND WITTY TO TALK WITH, AND PLEASANT TOO, TO THINK ON”.
  • (Posted on August 13, 2007, 11:27 am G. S. JOHAR)

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