Thursday, July 21, 2016


It's been quite the week. There has been major drama with my poor son. Long story short, he gave up a good paying job and a nice living situation in Northern Virginia to take a not so great paying job and move in with his long time girlfriend in very rural Central Virginia. The job involved things like he never imagined, like climbing on roofs and he rapidly discovered he hated it. When he fell off a roof and dislocated his shoulder he knew he could not stay, so he quit.

His girlfriend hit the roof, not the one he fell off of, and so now he's leaving her. Today we're moving him out, back to his old place that thankfully had not re-rented. He tried to get his old job back but it doesn't look likely.

Losing your job and losing your relationship are both stressful enough on their own, but together... it just breaks my heart that he's having to start all over again anew. I feel so badly for my baby.

The rest of the week wasn't much better. Another shooting in Baton Rouge, this time only a block from where I lived for five years before I married Jim. It is so jarring, dislocating, just weird to see all the important places in your younger life on television as the backdrop to a large scale tragedy. I've got relatives that are cops in that city, which really makes all the recent happenings hit hard. I've written about the endemic racism in Baton Rouge by most of the white population, but this cop-killing isn't going to help the situation either. Going home soon to see my mother and I'm not looking forward to being in Louisiana.

Which leads me to the thing that is making me feel bumper-stunned the most. Yesterday I spent many hours speaking with people from New Bethany and family members of Bossier Doe Carol Anne Cole. I'm going to be doing a little digging and writing an article, or series of articles about New Bethany and the stalled investigation into Carol Ann's murder for No Longer Quivering. The stories that are coming out of this are just heart breaking.

Thursday, July 14, 2016

Waffles and Pussy (Cats)

The title is in reference to a line some critics got after a film maker for using in a cheesy exploitation horror film my former favorite actor has a big role in that is in the theaters now. The critics don't get the phrase and argument is lifted straight out of another better film in homage. Such is much of life. No one really understands you or your motives.

We've started a new planning phase these last month. Serious planning.

Are you ready for my big news? We're putting together plans to build, own and operate a bed and breakfast when we get to Costa Rica this fall or winter.

It's doable on many levels. Land is cheap, construction costs are low and people work for an average of two bucks an hour. All that means that I merely have to answer phones, take reservations and oversee the maid and cook. Jim actually came up with the idea and I think it's a great one.

There is one problem I foresee. It will likely poke a stick into the mad hornet ball of my narcissistic sister in law in Texas. She'll be mightily pissed and likely jealous. When she married my bro in law she told him she couldn't work because she wanted to fulfill her lifelong dream of having a bed and breakfast.

So they build, first a garage with a two bedroom apartment, followed by a large home, followed by a large opulent building to use at the bed and breakfast. I don't know for sure what happened. What I do know is that she spent my bro in laws money to build and furnish the place before changing her mind. Now the bro in law uses it for his freelance office. All that moolah just down the damn drain.

Neurotic is as neurotic does. I don't like to poke that hornet's nest, but this has nothing to do with her. She's going to make it all about her when we do. Stay tuned.

I still think she shows all the signs of raving narcissism. My therapy agrees. Somehow I don't think she would have been emotionally capable of dealing with the unwashed masses very well. I know I will because I've worked with the public in a number of jobs.


Two quite stressful things have happened recently. Last week we went into the big city to help our youngest daughter a car. The daughter that works at a university while working on her organizational business management Masters degree.

We knew this was going to be stressful. We've either paid for a car for the other two kids or paid a down payment, so we've been aware for a long time now that the day was coming when we'd have to do the same for her. The last gasp of outlay of money (hopefully) in the road to adulting for our baby.

Now Jim is a tightwad. I knew this was going to be a major battle because of that fact. Also when he's been involved in car buying in the past he likes to take a long long time to visit all the dealerships before committing. I'm immune to getting ripped off at the dealerships and manage to get good deals, but then again I've sold new cars for serious stretches when I could not get any job I wanted.

But I have to give my daughter credit. She did all her research for months on end, driven a few cars and gotten a hefty pre-approval check from her bank. She was ready to go.

After a quick visit and a handful of test drives she was ready to buy. I sat back while she negotiated a pretty decent deal at what seemed like one of the better dealerships. Turned out the sales manager and I know a lot of people in common in the industry and we spent a fun half hour talking about sales and sales folks.

He wanted to know why I fled car sales 13 years ago after a 6 month stint here locally and I told him about the unrelenting boys club antics I was subjected to daily, a rout manual for misogynists nationwide. Little things that coming to my desk and finding the contents of my drawers scattered around the room, my coat always being flung from the coat rack and stepped on by chortling manly males. Petty punishments like being sent to McDonalds to buy breakfast for everyone at the mandatory meeting and having the sales manager dole out the grub and tell you there's nothing for you. I made my first sale at that dealership after one hour on the sales floor and the sales manager told me, 'You figure it out, college girl' when I asked for a sales packet to conclude the transaction. Relentless grinding down. I smiled and took it.

I'm proud of my daughter, she handled this like a pro, got a good deal on a car that was low mileage and almost new, still had most of the factory warranty in place. But at the last second she was pressured to buy an extended warranty on the electronics since most things on this car are computerized. She did and my husband hit the freak roof! There was fighting and tears before my daughter prevailed and drove the car off the lot.

Her old car isn't dead, thank whomever, because a day or two before the car purchase Jim's car decided to give up the ghost and die. Timing belt broke and causes some major damage to the motor. He is taking her much older SUV and will be driving that now. Now that everything has calmed down.

I knew there would be drama on his part when she went to buy her car.


The other crazy thing that happened is that I finally broke down and got a Shingles vaccination on Monday morning. By nightfall I was sick as can be. I had the very rare reaction and have spent the last two days bedridden. Today I was half bedridden because my high fever (103) finally broke this morning. I can now sit up but still feel weak as a kitten. I had a high fever, pain in all my joints, very low blood pressure that meant every time I stood I either fell down or stumbled around like I was drunk. It drove my oxygen stats very low and my pulse rather high. Most people never get reactions like this, but I have now to a number of vaccines and drugs. This is par for the stupid course for me. No tequila this Friday.

Thursday, July 07, 2016

When Will It End?

Not long after I finished writing about my despair over the shootings in the last few days of young black men and the overt racism that exists in Baton Rouge I saw on television about the shootings of law enforcement during the protests in Dallas, Texas.

Violence is never the answer to violence. It just keeps upping the ante. I think peaceful protest and resistance is the only hope, like Martin Luther King preached. And this time the white community must join in to make it work. No more.

What was sickening and interesting at the same time was the vast difference in how Fox News and CNN covered the shootings. Fox News exaggerated what was going on. When I first flipped to them they announced four dead and six at the hospital with some breathless goggled eyed sick excitement. I moved on to CNN who are the time could only confirm 3 transit officers at the hospital. Later they announced it was three death and eleven in the hospital.

Is there not some legal way to force Fox News (and other offenders) to report truthfully and not hype up tragedies like some sick gleeful pageant of pain for ratings?

Ingrained Racism in Baton Rouge

This has been a sad few days, starting with yesterday lunchtime when I started to see the coverage of the police shooting of Alton Sterling in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. The videos were horrible, it was obvious, to me at least, that shooting a man at point blank range that you already have pinned to the ground is nothing short of cold-blooded murder.

I've been increasingly upset by the police shootings in our country, both of unarmed young black men and others. I don't have an answer to how to stop that, but every single time I hear of another person dying at the hands of an overzealous or possibly frightened police officer I cry. No one should have to fear law enforcement, but now many of us do.

My own fear of being shot and killed for no reason by law enforcement started with the lady that sang next to me on our church's worship team, Patricia Cook, was gunned down in downtown Culpeper. Her crime? She was trespassing at a local Catholic school and refused to show her drivers license to the officer called out to investigate. He shot her at point blank range in the face before shooting her five times in the back as she drove away. Shooting her from school grounds, a school filled with children, shooting towards a heavily trafficked major road intersection a block away. It's a mercy that others weren't injured.

For his crimes that officer received a sentence of 36 months, served a small portion of it and was released. The last I heard he was trying to get back on a force somewhere. The last thing he needs is a badge and a gun.

So Pat wasn't black, she was a white middle aged middle class lady of 54, one of the most meek and mild people I've met, the last one to be considered a threat. If it can happen to Pat then none of us are safe. We ALL could be executed by cop for something as minor as refusing to show a drivers license. We're all at risk.

The Baton Rouge shooting at a convenience store on North Foster Dr. just reinforces that horrible reality to me once again. My father used to live near the shooting scene many years before. I know exactly where this occurred. I've stopped at that particular store on my way to lay flowers on my father's grave in nearby Roselawn Cemetary. It was on the way.

Racism flows heavily through the city of Baton Rouge, just like some sort of black spiritual ick version of the Mississippi River. Is it possible to hate a place you love at the same time.

I spent a long spate of years, from 1973 to 1986, living in Baton Rouge, first in South Baton Rouge and later in the downtown area before finally settling off Old Hammond Highway near Tara subdivision. I know Baton Rouge intimately, whether I like it or not. I attended Louisiana State University of Baton Rouge, and married the son of two LSU professors. We left Baton Rouge to move to Europe for a number of years before settling here in Virginia near Washington D.C. for over twenty years now.

I've never looked back and wanted to return to live in Baton Rouge. At one point in our time here in Virginia Jim was offered a position with the Dept. of Labor in Baton Rouge. We never really considered it. It wasn't only because the weather is so unGodly hot all the time in South Louisiana either. There were other reasons.

One of the biggest is that racism exists in a particularly vile entrenchment, hand in hand with white privileged and entitlement. I grew up among that stomach-turning level of racism and I always hated it. Hated. It.

My father spewed about blacks and the evils of race mixing as I was a kid, but I could not make that leap to hating black people because there were wonderful people in my life that were black, that cared for me, loved me, took care of me. I could not hate those that had shown me love, some of the most unconditional early love of my life.

As I grew I just knew that my father and others were wrong on the matters of race. Blacks were no different than whites. It was a false dichotomy.  I grew up in the sixties amid Civil Rights, listening to my father complain about 'uppity Negros'. When Martin Luther King was murdered I remember I didn't go to school for a few days and no one in our household went to work. There was serious fear of race riots.

And race riots did touch Baton Rouge, just not when Martin Luther King was murdered, later in 1972. It happened during a Black Muslims rally downtown and while the article I linked to does not mention it I believe a older white newsman named Carlton Cremeans was seriously injured during the rally and lingered either with a brain injury or in a vegetative state for quite some time. Perhaps I'm thinking of another newsman but that is the name my brain keeps fishing up.

Racism has always been a huge problem in Baton Rouge, just under the surface. I remember in the 1970s when blacks started moving into some of the 'white' areas and how many ugly things were said. Later in the 70s when the federal government ordered school integration and started bussing students hither and yon the white population made their displeasure known at having to share schools with the black population. Anyone would could beg, borrow or steal the money needed for private school enrolled their children in one of the many Catholic schools and other private schools.

This was ironic because many of the Catholic schools had been integrated for some time with no fuss.

By the time I left Baton Rouge for greener pastures in Europe I'd seen pretty much the full spectrum of racism in the state capital, right down to the slums of Scotlandville to the fact that mostly service industry and menial jobs were the only ones open to African Americans. I saw how some of my coworkers were treated by management, and the toll crack cocaine took on a hopeless defeated community.

You'd forget how it was back in Baton Rouge during those times when we rarely went home more than every few years. But not long after arriving you'd hear or witness some white person behaving poorly towards a black. Every time this happened I was shocked. While there seems to be some racism just about everywhere in this world it wasn't so openly practiced.

Through the years as I've spoken with my many family members living in Baton Rouge and New Orleans and every community between the two I'd heard racist speech for years, proclamations of 'you know how those blacks are' and I'd gloss over it, not confronting the casual racist, just shrugging and thinking that this would eventually die off.

That press conference yesterday showed me it's not lessened, it's increased. What I observed was the black mayor and a black minister being trotted out to show how not racist the police dept. supposedly is. Followed by the chief of police pretty much ordering people to sit down and shut up, ordering them not to riot or protest. Made me sick to my stomach. As usual don't deal with the issues.

Adding in a few more shooting deaths of innocent African American males since the death of Sterling in a short few hours has been horrific. This is a holocaust of people and not how a rational just society operates. 

Today when I got up and saw that many of my South Louisiana friends and family weren't one bit sorry about what happened, seeing some very racist statements being bandied about, things like 'That n*gger got what was coming to him' and 'they saved the taxpayers a trial by executing that criminal' my heart broke anew. I cannot comprehend being so unfeeling and callous towards living human beings who are suffering.

I ended up deleting a few friends and putting a number of relatives on unfollow this morning and I'm going to be staying off Facebook for a few days.

Part of me is just so angry that I would rejoice to see that horrible fucking city burned to the ground in a riot. But then again the only ones that get hurt from a riot that destroys towns are the members of the poorest parts of the community, which in Baton Rouge means the blacks.

Like I said before, I don't know what the answer is to end all these hateful police shootings of unarmed folks on either side of the color line and, yes, the blacks are getting killed at disproportionate rates. But I do know one thing. If this is to end we cannot sit neutral on the sidelines any longer. Whites are going to have to stand up and join with their black fellow citizens and insist that enough is enough, that this must end. We're all at risk.

Tuesday, July 05, 2016

Thirty Years Still With Echos From Fundytown Replete With Fireworks, Dirty Movies and Flummoxed Fundies

I haven't felt like writing much. Back a week ago we had our thirtieth wedding anniversary and it was something of a disaster. Jim and I couldn't agree on what to do or where to go. He wanted to eat at a rather expensive local restaurant I only go to when they offer their fixed price Pre Fixe menus.

Yes, I'm tight with a buck, a bad habit picked up in fundytown that I cannot always let go of.

I suggested we go back to the beach or as a low-cost stressless anniversary just go to the nearby water park and have Mexican food. I'm not one of those women that has to have jewelry, furs or expensive presents. I'm lower key and lower maintenance than that. However Jim didn't come home from his class at the agreed upon time, he was several hours late, went straight to his computer and ignored me. I'd gotten him an anniversary card and thought I might get flowers or a card. Nope, nothing.

Nothing. Thirty years and not even a greeting card.

I kind of went nuts and the last few bits of leftover just nasty stuff from the years of tiptoeing around as the good submitting wife came boiling out and I picked one hell of a whopper of a fight. I explained some things. By that time it was way way too late to hit the water park so what we did was go to our favorite local Mexican restaurant and proceeded to get tipsy as hell on margaritas. It ended well.

For so many years I suppressed my own thoughts and needs so severely that sometimes they come boiling out like red hot lava and I go way beyond caring if I hurt someone with my words. I need to find a healthier balance. I'm hoping as time goes on and I continue to be completely open and vocal about my needs and feelings that the lava subsides.


One of the things I learned this week was how to make fundamentalist door to door Christians stop ringing my door bell. The very next day I was busy folding a bunch of loads of laundry that has piled up. I hate doing laundry and there's something just completely mindless about folding and ironing so I always switch on the big flat screen television mounted over our fireplace and find something to watch while I deal with the laundry.

That day I was catching the tail end of one of my favorite films I only got around to seeing after we left our old church, 'The Full Monty'. While I sat at my vantage point on the loveseat folding and sorting laundry into baskets I could see two men in shiny out of date suits, like the kind you might see at Goodwill and a couple of ladies in long dresses with long Assemblies of God hair, no makeup. They were coming up the walk way to the front of my house. They only got to the bottom step before I could see that their mouths had popped open and they all looked shocked. They could clearly see my television from that first step and the film was on the very end of the movie, the sequence where the guys were going into the full monty.

While I watched them staring at the sin and degradation on my television they backed up, turned around and left. But not before putting a few choice tracts under the windshield wipers of my car. LMAO, had I known it was so easy to make them leave me alone I would have put that film sequence on a loop and ran it continuously when I wasn't watching television.

It's so mild, just a few naked bums at the end, not really what I would call pornographic. But, hey, it worked!


The 4th was all cat wrangling into a thundershirt when my ruralesque neighbors four houses down decided to keep shooting off illegal fireworks off and on all weekend. I'm thankful it's over. Not one of my favorite holidays at all. Plus I'm up to my eyeballs in canning the copious produce from the garden.

Today I went to the local art house theater shortly after lunch and got to see 'The Full Monty' on the big screen. I was surprised that the only other folks there was a large group of retirement aged ladies, some with zimmer frames, cheering and clapping during the stripping sequences.


Thursday, June 23, 2016

Thurston Howell III in Drag

At least that's how I feel when I go to the gym.

Right now I'm trying to regain a little bit of strength and muscle tone in the aftermath of over six months of mrsa and lots of laying around. The problem being that the gym here is more problematic than the gym when I was a young single gal in Louisiana.

In the old days I'd show up, slam through the Nautilus machines at a frenetic pace. Not stopping to talk to anyone, no socializing, no getting all fancied up. Get 'er done!

Here at our 'wellness center' connected to the hospital in our tiny town populated with rural recondite rednecks and locals that thrive on knowing everyone elses business in glorious detail going to work out can be a minefield of weirdness.

This is the only gym I've ever seen where flocks of older ladies show up in full makeup, done hair and perfect outfits to work out?!? This really puzzles me because I've always just shown up in workout gear not caring how nuts my hair looks and definitely not wearing mascara, lipstick or foundation at all. It's very puzzling, and that's without my asthma reacting to any colognes.

One of the other things I struggle with is that I hate working out. Everything hurts or protests in my body, I'm sweating and inwardly swearing. It's just never been any fun for me. I know there are folks out there that love it. I am not one of them.

Consequently I'm not in the mood to 'chat' or socialize. I just want to get through my version of the Bataan Death March and go home. No small talk, no eye contact, no deep philosophical discussions or local gossip.

Which is a huge problem because many of those frou-froued up ladies live to flag others down and flap their jaws. It's the reason I dropped my aqua yoga class unceremoniously, because one of the ladies would not shut up, kept yapping in a class that is supposed to be largely silent and meditative.

Add in the fact that some of the members of my former church attend this gym and that some of the older gentlemen there are on the prowl for female companionship and it can really get tense.

Lately I've affected what I call my Thurston Howell III in Drag routine. When I'm working out I had my resting bitch face thing going on strongly, hoping I'm giving off unfriendly 'Do not bother me with your petty blathering' vibes, looking down at the few that invade my workout space with a mien that I hope says, 'Why are you bothering me you filthy urchin?'

If one of them attempts to hold a conversation with me I then just say something inane like 'How very quaint/interesting/droll/sweet/intriguing' and I power on past without breaking my stride.

I know it's rude, but this is one of my biggest pet peeves. I just don't have the time to stay all day at the gym and let Chatty Cathys monopolize my time.

Yesterday and today I ended up staying in the pool over twenty minutes longer than I ever intended because of my snotty gym introverted nature. Both days one of the most obnoxious ladies from my old church tried to flag me down in the pool, both times I proclaimed in my best Thurston Howell III imitation that I was busy with my workout and moved past her, both times she said she'd catch up with me in the locker room. I stayed in the pool way longer than it would take her to groom and leave.

For me this is one of the biggest changes in how I handle life. I have boundaries now and I protect them zealously. There is nothing in this world that could tempt me into engaging with this lady from my old church because I know she either wants to a) boast about herself and her righteousness, b) issue to come to our version of Jesus, c) gossip about someone, likely the recently deceased lady, d) ask for my phone number yet again so she can send me a personal word of prophesy each week from Jesus. Nope. Nope. Nope....

Wednesday, June 22, 2016

Senior Citizen Problems

Been busy, between Father's Day, getting together with the kids, and being nagged into a shopping trip with my old pal Joanie. Most it's good, some of it isn't, like Jim having a dust up with one of the former board members of the HOA who is hurtling personal insults when called on violating town and HOA building codes.

The other drag involves something going on with my Maw In Law. Five or six years ago when MIL contracted pneumonia down in Louisiana and almost died Jim was with her for three weeks at the hospital and later the nursing home. While taking care of her he discovered that she was spending huge sums at Publishers Clearing House and every scammy charity you could imagine. After his brother took over her long term care and moved her to a Texas retirement home he also discovered that their mother was spending large amounts on silly things. He cut off her access to money, taking over her checking account, paying her bills, taking away her credit cards.

My MIL has complained about this off and on to me since then, complaining that Jim's brother will not allow her to have cash, a check book or credit card. I've always told her that Jim's brother is doing this to protect her and to trust him.

At least until this Christmas from Hell we spent with her in Texas. There was lots of things that came out and Jim and I decided to try and move her here, to Virginia, to a nearby beautiful luxurious retirement community five minutes from our house. Predictably Jim's brother was furious, talking the MIL out of the move. It didn't exactly ease any of the hard feelings from Christmas in anyone.

Since then I've discussed what happened with my therapist and she had both a tentative diagnosis for the sister in law's problems and some suggestions on handling things moving forward. Jim has reached out to his brother and they have managed to talk weekly and take tentative steps to rebuild something of a relationship. I have followed my therapist Elise suggestions, I have stepped aside from the brother in law and I've gone completely 'no contact' with the sister in law while still staying in touch with my Maw in Law.  I even have an action plan for when my 94 year old Maw In Law passes, it involves saying the least possible words in the dullest possible fashion to the sister in law and sticking close to my mother. I owe her nothing and I refuse to either provide he with drama fodder or play her games. Boundaries are awesome!

But here's the problem. In the last week we've been getting a series of emails from the Maw in Law. She's getting increasingly agitated that Jim's brother refuses to allow her to have any cash and will not allow her to walk the roughly 200 feet from her retirement home to a nearby CVS or Walgreens to buy things. Now she's demanding the money and the emails are getting kind of crazy and hostile.

I get why the BIL is not wanting her to just jaunt over to the drug store with pockets of cash. She has decided she has IBS and wants to buy drugs to stop that, yet doesn't seem to understand that if she's taking Miralax daily and having diarrhea that she just needs to stop the Miralax.

Pointed out to Jim yesterday how unlikely it was that she would be able to get her hands on anything strong enough to do any real damage to herself or even likely to interact with the few meds she's on.

It's sad that she's not allowed to touch any of her money at all. The BIL has financial power of attorney over all her funds and he steadfastly refuses to allow her a penny of pocket money. Upon hearing this my mother has sent my Maw in Law an odd twenty for bingo. I get that BIL doesn't want her to fritter away her money on otc drugs or get rich quick schemes and that she has been experiencing some senility, but my heart breaks for her. I cannot imagine how frustrating it must be to have someone else so completely in control over every aspect of your life with no say so from you.

I'm contemplating having my mother or someone else call the Elder Abuse hotline in that area just to have them check into the situation because this is all ringing a warning bell for me. I don't dare do it myself because I never wish to give the SIL anything else to hold against me for her long list of my offenses, stuff like I pounded on the trunk of our car and yelled at Jim to pop the trunk and other things I have no memory of at all. And I know I'm not going senile....

This is a woman, my Maw in Law, who has only been wonderful to me during the past thirty years I've been married to her son. The whole hideous control freaking nature of this entire thing is just reinforcing my idea that my sister in law is responsible for all this tight control as part of the sick thing she has going on.

Jim is talking again about moving Maw in Law here. I hope he can pull it off. There has to be a middle way that makes everyone happy. I don't get why allowing this woman a few dollars cash in her pocket and allowing her to walk a few feet to the store is such an awful thing.

Friday, June 17, 2016

When It Looks Like One Thing, But Morphs Into Something Else

The title seems to be the theme of my life this week, a week punctuated with asthma to the point where I've been laying in bed watching lots of bad television like the "Revenge of the Nerds IV" movie and "Cops".

One episode of "Cops" I saw is a perfect illustration of my life at the moment. The officers showed up for what seemed like a routine pick up of someone high as a kite and attempting to expose himself to minors. By the time the long episode was over Mr. High Flasher had kicked out the window of the police cruiser, made a break for it, managed to piss and crap himself and break one of the officer's nose. Not expected at all. Neither has much of anything in the past few days.

I'm trying to regain a little strength by going to the gym daily and walking around the current pool. Unfortunately I am being stymied the last few days by someone else there. A little silver haired lady in the pool that literally reeks of some perfume that spells instant asthma for me. Each time I've rushed up to the counter at the gym using my portable nebulizer just to break the episode enough so I can get home in one piece the manager has gone to her and pointed out the 'no perfume' signs in the locker rooms. The lady has been so horrid about it, fighting with the managers and telling them she'll do what she damn well pleases.

It's frustrating because this is not a matter of her choice slightly inconveniencing me, it's impacting my ability to use a public facility I pay a big membership fee to access. Today I'm going two hours early to try and head her off at the pass.

Yesterday afternoon also went about like this. I decided to go to a new salon and have the horrible haircut the Jesus-shouter gave me six weeks ago corrected to something I can style. Big BIG mistake. No witnessing, just a stylist that completely ignored the photo of how I had my hair in a long messy pixie bob to my chin three years ago and proceeded to give me a short pixie above my ears. She ignored my telling her over and over again that she was cutting it way too short. I did the usual full salon package and she tried to upsell me on a complete facial waxing package instead of doing what I asked and just threading my eyebrows. She tried to plus sell by mentioning my slight I usually keep it groomed off upper lip hair.

Oh no bitch! I'm not going to buy more products because you are pushing 'mustache' removal. I'm just going to get more and more pissed off.

This is possibly one of the few times I've come out of the salon/spa more tense than I went in. I let the stylist know I hated my hairdo and she'd failed to listen to anything I said about the style or length. Thankfully it's just hair and hair grows back. But damn, nothing is going according to plan or usual patterns. What's going on here?