Tony-Phillipe - Hairdresser

I can do a few things well.

I'm pretty good at volleyball. I know my way around records. I can cook a mean Kraft Mac and Cheese. But when it comes to working with my hands, I'm no Bob Villa. I did make some excellent record shelves, but by-and-large, I'm not so good with my hands.


(My beautiful record shelves...top two rows)

For some reason unknown to me still, Becky decided she wanted me to highlight her hair. This is wrong on so many levels.

First: The above mentioned "not being good with my hands" thing.
Second: Big hands...small head...precise work. These things do not go together.
Third: I have no hair...why would I be good at doing hair, when I have no experience doing my own?
Fourth: I'M A GUY!! Ladies, don't ask a guy to do your hair if you want it to come out well. We just don't have the patience for it!!

Somehow, I'm still not sure how, she talked me into doing it. I prepared my tools.



I had the Revlon kit, the instructions, and some blue goo that ladies willingly put on their head. The instructions said: "Mix the powder into the conditioner until it's smooth, but don't over mix, because it could get too hot"...too hot? What is this stuff, acid?

But before I mixed, I had to put the little hat on Becky, and fish strands of hair out of what seemed like a million holes with what looked like a crochet needle. Yes, it was as fun as it sounds!!

The instructions said: "For muted highlights, pull hair out of every other hole." Unfortunately for me, I read that as, "Pull hair out of every hole." So, for the next hour, I was pulling strands, pulling strands, pulling strands.

Me: "I think I'm pulling out, too much."
Becky: "Yeah, way too much."
Me: "Why didn't you stop me."
Becky: "I don't know."

I re-read the directions, and realized my error. I had to pull the cap off, and begin all over. Every OTHER whole. I began again...pulling strands, pulling strands, pulling strands. Yes, still as fun as it sounds.

At this point, it was after 11 pm, and I was tired. But I knew I had to move on. I mixed the Blue Goo, and followed the instructions to put on the gloves, so my skin wouldn't touch the Goo.

This was where the problems began. The gloves, it seems, were made for a 5 year old girl...Unfortunately, my hands are slightly larger than that of a five year old girl. I tried to put them on, but only got about half way before I started freaking out because they were so tight on my fingers.

Me: Oh My God!! They won't go on, THEY WON'T GO ON!!

Becky: Calm down!

Me: But THEY WON'T GO ON!! AAARRRRGGGHHH! (This is where I went running out of the room screaming.)

Becky calmed me down and after a few more attempts to get the glove on, I finally forced in on, tearing it in the process. Oops!! I started brushing the hair strands with the Blue Goo. I tried to not put too much on, because of the burn warning. My hands were sweating because of the stupid tight gloves!! But I pushed on.

After the first application, her hair still looked brown, so I had to get down and dirty. I had to apply more Blue Goo with my tightly gloved fingers. I lathered it on heavy, coating every strand with Goo. It took forever!! I grabbed each strand and coated it individually. I wanted to do this right, so I really concentrated on something other than those gloves (oh, those horrible gloves).

When the Blue Goo was applied, we waited.



After an extremely long wait, Becky put down her BeatleFest magazine, and we rinsed. I think the final results are pretty good!!




Just call me Tony-Phillipe!! If you would like your hair dyed, just let me know...BUT BUY BIGGER GLOVES!!