Friday, December 30, 2011

A Few Good Lashes...Left

Let's face it. We all do dumb things in the name of beauty. But recently I was party to one of the dumbest. After much prompting and prodding from friends, I have decided that I am finally removed enough from The Event that I can finally attempt to share it with Everyone in the World. However, I do not feel up to the task of making it humorous, so I will channel my inner Kevin Bacon (who only played one of my favorite versions of a lawyer in one of my favorite movie adaptations of "A Few Good Men") and present the facts of the case to a jury of my peers. After all, I wouldn't want to unfairly represent the defendants in this case. Even though I truly believe them to be incompetent whores.

But, really, who am I to judge? After all, the proof is just AS CLEAR AS THE NOSE ON MY FACE!

The facts of the case are these:

At 1:00 p.m., I walked into a certain establishment off Voss Road (let's call it Less Than Amazing Lash Studio, or LTALS for the sake if brevity) for what I was certain would be Amazing Lashes. I was ushered into a dimly lit, deceptively tranquil room the size of my right shoe which was presided over by the defendant, a seemingly vacant woman named Allison. Little did I know she was the evil mastermind of my impending destruction.

These are the facts of the case and they are undisputed.

Fact: Did you know that eyelash extensions take about two hours to glue on, painstakingly, one by one. Seems like a long time to just lay there like a bat in what feels like a sensory deprivation tank with paper jammed in your tear ducts. Well, it took Allison three and a half hours. Let the waterboarding begin. But I overdramatize. Let's focus on more evidence, shall we?

Not only did this crime span nearly 4 tortuous hours, but the evil dictator of LTALS came in while I laid defenseless on the table, discussing the details of the crime in front of me, leaving me behind not entirely unscathed to tell the tale.

Please review the following conversations as exhibits a, b, and c:

Dictator: What are you doing here? Why don't you make glue clean? You need to do it like this (Tugs on my face). This doesn't look clean. See, do like this. (Leaves room, and me feeling less than certain about what is happening to my face.)
Allison: I hate it when she does this.
Me: I don't think I like it either.
Allison: This is looking so gorgeous.
Me: (sighing in relief)

Dictator: (returns) Why are you using so many?
Allison: This is a full set.
Dictator: you should only use one every 2 or three. You need to use 65, not 150. (Leaves)
Me: (quietly panicking)

EXHIBIT C: (on left eye--finally.)
Dictator: Hmmm...why are you doing this?
Allison: I am doing what you told me.
Dictator: Are you using a 13 or a 14?
Allison: a 14.
Dictator: 13?
Allison: a 14.
Dictator: which one?
Allison: you're confusing me.
Me: (silently) OH, SHIT.

These are the facts, and they are undisputed.

Furthermore, when I left the crime scene, my right eye looked like a tarantula was sitting on top of it, and looked thicker and longer than the left. Black glue was left stuck in my hair, and I was left crying the ugly cry without a refund.

Do you think I was unsatisfied?

Do you? DO YOU??

(channeling Jack Nicholson's angriest voice)