Tuesday, April 24, 2012

Irrefutable Proof

Theory of Life number three, also known as the Object Personality Theory, states:

Inanimate Objects will serve best the human who forms a bond with them. Positive bonds will create long lasting, affectionate relationships. However, some bonds are negative and will accordingly produce negative results. Read: Love your stuff and it will love you back. Don't and it won't.

It is valuable to note that Physical treatment of objects is not necessarily correlated with the loving of the stuff. In this case, "love" need not represent both a noun and a verb.

The theory has been proven! Skeptics may rest when I tell the tale...

I have this straightener. It was a good one for a long time, but I was never particularly impressed. You can tell because it doesn't have a name. If I had named it, I would have picked a cat lady name like Willadean or Ruth.  And then it cracked and started snapping pieces of my hair off. And we weren't very good friends. And I didn't use it that much, except that this weekend I was at my parent's house without four other straighteners to kife. 

So there I was at HQ, curling away, when my straightener started to steam a bit. I thought, "Hmm. I thought I got my hair all the way dry. Guess not.", and went on my merry way. A minute later and one clump over, it steamed a bit again. And then I smelled it, and look at the huge clump of hair hanging from my straightener, no longer attached to my head. And I showed my mom, and we said things from Little Women and lamented, and I brushed it out and got over it for a bit. It was underneath another layer, right? no big deal.

And then the next time I showered, twelve times the normal hair came off my head. And then some more in little burned bits. And then some more in long strands. And I almost cried. Real mature, right?

And then I was drying my hair. And the burned part I thought I could hide turned out not to be so easily hidden. In truth, it is rather poofy and frizzy at this point. "I'm so fustrated!"
In one last attempt at reconciliation, I plugged in the straightener and came back awhile later to cautiously take a stab at the waves left over. And it tried to heat up one last time and then, finally and totally, gave up the ghost.

Moral of the Story: Name the things that have the power to destroy your hair. Name them nice names, not cat lady names. If you don't, you will end up with a poofy yucky broken left side of your hair and your sunglasses will get stuck in the charred, shortened bits when you go inside and stick them on your head.

Just in time for aviator season, too. Shame.

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thank you for validating my existence, you lovely person!