Shelby (Part I)

I needed a haircut!

In the world of a Doofus, that means just one thing---grab some scissors and start cutting. Bad move. I went from having hair below my shoulders to chopped hair that had a few stragglers at chin level and a bunch of whacked hair above my ears and some about an inch away from my scalp. It wasn't pretty. The more hair I cut, the uglier it got. I had to step away from the scissors and admit defeat. Crud. I knew I needed a professional to clean up the mess I had made.

I had heard of a beautician that was really good so I called and made an appointment with her. Sadly, on the day of my appointment, I had to work late. I called and rescheduled---"no biggie."
On the day of my rescheduled appointment, again, I couldn't make it, so I called and rescheduled---"a little biggie."

Well, on the day of my rescheduled, rescheduled appointment, I couldn't go. "Kind of a biggie." I didn't want to call and reschedule again---so---I did what any normal Doofus would do---I stood her up. That's right, I stood her up. That was a "huge biggie."

All this time of rescheduling and not showing up, my hair still needed "fixing." "Dare I call this hair stylist one more time?" I asked myself. "Are you crazy?" was my answer.

What to do? I still really needed a haircut, and I heard this gal was really, really good. Because I had called and cancelled and not shown up, I'm afraid she won't take an appointment under my REAL name. "Woe is me!" I cried. All of a sudden a BRILLIANT idea came to mind---call an make an appointment under a pseudo name!

I call the salon and make an appointment for "Shelby." I've always liked the name Shelby. "Shelby's" appointment is the one I keep. "Woo Hoo! I'm finally gonna get decent haircut!"

When I get to the salon on time, I meet the nicest beautician. "Good thing she doesn't know my name is really "LaRae," I smuggly say to myself.

As she cuts my hair, we talk. Guess what we talk about? Shelby! Seems she's intrigued by such a rare name. She states, "You have such a cute name!"

With a smile on my face, I answer, "Thank you."

Still intrigued, she asks, "How did your mother come up with that name?"

Without missing a beat, I reply, "I don't know."

"That's such an unusual name. Have you had a lot of compliments on it?"

"Oh, yes, yes! Everyone loves my name. I love having Shelby as my name." I graciously play along.

"Would you mind if I named my next girl Shelby?" (She's pregger---so she means, like in a couple of months).

"Not at all! I would be honored." I declare proudly. Then it hit me! I only had my checkbook with me---I didn't have any cash! I'm gonna have to write a check and sign it with my REAL name!

"How the heck am I gonna get out of this one?" I panick silently. Beads of sweat are gathering at my forehead. All I want to do is hurry and get my hair cut, and get the heck outta there!

She keeps talking about my name---you know---my pseudo name---SHELBY! I'm thinking, "Give it a rest, lady. Just cut my hair."

She finally whacks her last cut on my hair. It is cute. I don't care. I had to write a check. Gulp.

She walks me up to the counter and tells me how much I owe her. Gulp. I get out my checkbook and hurriedly scribble the amount and sign it---hoping that she won't notice my signature. She did. She said, "I thought your name was Shelby."

Gulp. The beads of sweat are now dripping off my nose. I stutter, "It it is, it it is is."

"Then why did you sign your check LaRae?"

Gulp. I answer, (now, I am not kidding about this answer), "LaRae is my nickname. Shelby is my real name."

"Why would you put your nickname on your checks?" Man, this lady is soooo nosey.

With my face the color of scarlet to the third power, I grabbed my stuff and confidently answered, "I don't know." Then I got the heck outta there!

LESSON LEARNED: Always carry cash

The Artichoke

My first experience with an artichoke was when hubby and I were invited out to dinner at a REAL swanky restaurant by a Big Time Lawyer Turned Circuit Court Judge <--- (real name---BTLTCCJ for future reference).

Feeling a lot of intimidation as I walked up the swanky stairs to the swanky restaurant, I said to hubby, "I'm nervous. I don't know how to act in a REAL swanky restaurant."

Hubby, who NEVER feels intimidated assured, "You'll be fine. What's there to be nervous about?"

Really? Does he remember what an innocent Doofus I am?

He grabbed my hand and led me to the table where BTLTCCJ was waiting. We shook hands. Mine was sweaty---I could tell cuz of the droplets on my palms and cuz I saw BTLTCCJ wipe his now wet palm off with the REAL swanky napkin that was on the table.

We were given a REAL fancy menu. I pretended that I knew what the dishes were that were listed on the REAL fancy menu. When the waiter asked what I wanted to order, I just pointed to the words. I didn't let on that I didn't know how to pronounce whatever it was that I wanted to order.

BTLTCCJ asked, "Would you like to have an artichoke for an appetizer?"

Even though I didn't know what an artichoke was, I didn't want BTLTCCJ to know that . . . so I said, "Ya, sure." (Gulp)

He ordered an artichoke for all of us to share.

"What the heck is an artichoke?" I whispered to hubby. BTLTCCJ heard. "Crud."

When the artichoke accompanied with a huge bowl of melted butter came, he showed me how to eat one. He had me strip one of the leaves (?), dip the meaty end in the butter and eat it.

"YUM!!!!" That was the best stuff I had ever eaten! I went to town on eating the meaty leaves (?) while hubby and BTLTCCJ talked about law and other stuff that was WAY over my head. I didn't care---I was eating ARTICHOKES! WOO HOO!

When hubby and BTLTCCJ finished their conversation that I was not a part of, they looked for the artichoke. It was gone. They looked at me and asked, "Where did the artichoke go?"

With my mouth packed full of artichoke stuff, I mumbled, "Mf mpphf, mffpp." (Translation---"I don't know).

Looking at the now empty artichoke plate, hubby declared, "You ate the whole thing!"

"Mpff mmppt!" (Translation---"Did not!")

"Yes you did!" pointing at the artichoke hairs that were poking out of my mouth. "You even ate the hairs!" You're not supposed to eat the hairs!"

"Mphhph M mphff"t . . . mp . . . mhf . . . m . . . Mphhff mmpphfff mphhff mpphft mphffy!" (Translation---"No I didn't . . . um . . . er . . . a . . . the waiter took the hairs away."

Hard as I tried to plead my case before a lawyer and a Big Time Lawyer Turned Circuit Court Judge <---(real name), the evidence of the artichoke hairs was still poking out of my mouth . . . Kinda like how feathers poke out of the mouth of a cat after he has eaten a bird. The "jig" was definitely up.

LESSON LEARNED: Don't talk when my mouth is full of artichoke hairs.