Just Say No

Episode 9 in which we learn something from Facebook.

So, ignore what I said before.

You know who you are.

When I first signed on Facebook, it used to annoy me with the ads it chose to shower me with in the ever present sidebar.

Diets. Hearing Aids. Hair loss.

Then it got to know me better in whatever sneaky logarithm fb, Google and other Net spammers use, and started offering ads closer to the mark.

Oh my dear, sweet fb, if it were only that easy.

Then, I discovered I had an opinion and clicked through some of the ads. Voila, fb knew me better than my own mother.

The Zombie Apocalypse and Dr Who joined the touts marching up the sidebar.

Oh no, all is revealed. I am exposed. Now my pool of fb friends know what they might have suspected. I want to shoot at the undead and go on trips with a floppy-haired, cutie-pie Time Lord. Or Daryl.

I feel so naked.

Last summer I had a horse experience that stuck with me and once I was loosed from the throes of I may buy a horse, I still clicked fb pages that displayed beautiful horse pictures.

And the sidebar changed to this.

And more of the same.

No longer was I a deaf fat bald woman in need of a career. Or a fan boy.

I was a horse person. A horsemanship fellow in need of saddles, boots, blankets and beautiful, beautiful horses. A cowboy.

Aha, she said.

So, I clicked and clicked and clicked and the sidebar filled up with equine temptations of every sort.

Which made me smirk and revealed an obsession of another kind.

Oh, they still throw a diet ad in once in a while in case I'm getting too big for my boots. But one new selection on CLICK IF YOU LOVE DARYL DIXON, eliminates that.

And here, at last, is my point. This is what those in journalism call BURYING THE LEAD.

As I read the news online, the stories I'm offered range from interesting to scary to WTF. I've decided to try my anti-fb-get-to-know-me trick out in the real world. The real world in this case being the online ether of the Internet.

Which is not the real world, I grant you, but it is one step closer to the real world than Facebook.

I will not click through to a story, any story, to read about that family who have made having no class pay big bucks.

I will not view any picture of any part of anybody's baby bump.

Maybe my Huffington Post sidebar will fill with stories about economics, women's rights, environmental improvements or Norman Reedus biographies.

If we stop supporting the horse's asses by tacit approval, maybe we'll get to see more of the horse.

That's my theory anyway.

Have a nice day.

When The Hairdresser Makes You Cry

Just in time for the holidays, I got the worst haircut EVER. One might think being a good tipper and a faithful client might mean this situation would be avoided, but no. Probably because "shorter" and "longer" are judgement calls.

I googled, "the bitch cut my hair too short," and hit over two million sites in three seconds.

Isn't that sad? So many unhappily coiffed folks.

Next I sought advice for what to do when ... sniff, sniff, sob.

Faster than a bald guy looking for hair plugs, I was directed to a multitude of helpful, sympathetic places with lists, LISTS, of remedies.

#1 was PRENATAL VITAMINS, the hot secret to growing hair. And babies, I suppose. Way back in the misty dim recesses of my mind, I seem to remember something about nice pregnant hair, but thought at the time it was nature's way of distracting me from events to come.

#2 was NIOXIN which apparently thickens and grows hair and is available in different combinations for whatever hair problem you sport.

 

#3 was HORSE SHAMPOO which makes equine manes and tails silky and humans extra hairy. Kind of like using Wolfman's shave cream. I remember when this was a fad, but I don't remember why.

#4 was an HERBAL PREP I'd never heard of, which the hairless individual in question was supposed to add to the horse shampoo and voila! a thick rich head of hair. I decided not to try chemistry.

#5 or last on every one's list was LIVE WITH IT. It's JUST HAIR. It will GROW BACK.

And to all those people I say,

SHUT UP.

And then, there are the loved ones who don't know what to do for the victim of a bad stylist.

My kiddo took one look and gave me a hug. Then the other night, out of the blue, she said, "it's a nice color."

Husband Dearest came in the bathroom the first day after I had fixed it myself, then walked out without saying anything. But he thought better about that, came back and said, "it fluffs up a little." Aces to him for jumping in over his head.

As for me, I now have good hat hair, which means, my hair looks good in a hat, which is where it is going to stay until spring.

Amazing

I'm currently reliving my horse-crazy phase.

Watch this Wonder Girl and Super Horse.