Monday, February 14, 2011

Celebrity Highlights = Worst Hangover Ever

I made the almost fatal decision to get highlights this past Saturday after fannying around about it for weeks. My friend Alison, a single mom who shares my low maintenance philosophy in regards to appearance decided that she would bite the bullet too and so we searched for something we could both agree on. I wanted to go the cheap route and poured over lifebooker offers, cross checking them with yelp. She got referrals from her friends for colorists that cost no less than $225 a pop. Now I know that you shouldn't fuck around with your appearance too close to your wedding but I just could not rationalize spending that much on my hair. Eventually we settled on this guy named Ayman who owned his own salon on W 80th. He wanted to meet me for a pre color consultation and I talked him down from $180 to $140.

Now Jennifer Aniston may be alone and 40, but she also has what I have come to believe as being the best highlights on the planet. After an hour an a half with Ayman, I emerged with similar tresses. "Oh my God, Ayman! I look like Jennifer Aniston!" I screamed as I hugged him. I burst out of his salon checking myself out on every reflective surface. I went home to my fiance, swooshing my hair in his face, and said, "So, do you want to do me or what?! Well you can't because there is no way I'm getting this hair sweaty!" We got dressed and went out to meet up with my sister and her husband at  Valhalla in Hell's Kitchen where we promptly drank 4 beers each that unbeknownst to us, had an alcohol content of 9%. By the time we got to the Josh Ritter concert at Terminal 5, I was properly shitfaced, but it didn't matter because I had HIGHLIGHTS. When we got into the concert and couldn't find a decent view, I told my posse to to wait a minute. The false self-perception that the combined efforts of alcohol and highlights had given me lead me to talk our way into the VIP area where half the cast of The Office were enjoying the show. I practically knocked over Emily Blunt and introduced myself to John Krasinski by saying, "Hi John, you have to meet my brother in law, he's the best soccer player in the world." To which he surprisingly obliged and was very happy about. The rest of the night is pretty much a black out and I can't believe I blew the my second chance to chat up a man in my top 5 fantasy "If I could have sex with a celebrity" men (the first being Ryan Reynolds who I ran into jogging and to whom I said, "Ryan Reynolds! ....I'm a big fan" winkety wink wink). Seriously, how many more chances am I going to get?!

So the moral of the story is: getting Jennifer Aniston highlights does make you a celebrity, but if by any chance you get to pretend for a night, don't blow it by getting wasted and hitting on the husband of an Oscar nominee in front of your fiance with the lamest line of all time.

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