"Okay, like, I know you really, really want to look like Christina Aguilera - and that's totally great? I'm totally behind you on that? But you should really, really think about whether or not you want to commit? To that look? I mean, I'm not saying that you totally look like Patty Hearst or anything, but Christina Aguilera? I mean come ON. TWO HOURS here, y'know? Not that I don't want to do it because I totally said I would; I'm just saying, y'know? Maybe next week you'll have an audition or something and you walk in the door all Christina Aguilera-looking and they're all like 'Oh shit, we can't afford Christina Aguilera to like, play the secretary?' and you'll like try to tell them you're not Christina Aguilera but you would look EXACTLY LIKE HER and they wouldn't believe you?"
"Whatever. I said that's what I want and that's what I'm not paying you for, so bring it. Are you saying you can't do it?"
"No, of course not. Are you kidding me? Me, personally, I would probably want to go with something a little more appropria-- a little more possib-- a little more subdued. Hey! How about you let me make you look like Patty Hearst - I can put you in a little beret and everything - and then AFTER, we can go out and I'll buy you some really pretty clothes that Christina Aguilera would probably wear if she wore your size. Wouldn't that be great? Why don't we do that, hunh?"
THANK GOD she had people to understand her and hug her after this difficult, hellish, potentially life-changing experience. Her fellow stylists understood. Stylists always understand.
"That whore's like, crazy, I'm telling you. Bitch thinks I'm a plastic fucking surgeon or something. And I'm totally trying to explain to her that she's kind of horsey looking and she wouldn't fucking listen so I'm like squirting all kinds of shit on her head and finally I just got desperate and started making her up like she was a bridesmaid and I just want to die. OhmiGOD."
"You have every reason to cry."
"Snff. Honey, I love you, but you say that about everything."
"Fuck the beret. Gimme the gun. I'm gonna fucking kill that bitch."
SPECIAL BONUS FEATURE: Our Christmas List:
This, airbrushed on a t-shirt, in a heart shape, with glittery script that spells out "DRAMA QUEENS," sizes M & L.
It's not that we have anything new to say about her, but God we love her. We have all our fingers crossed waiting for the Mother of All Meltdowns. If it doesn't happen, we will be bereft and inconsolable.
Pinch dose widdle cheeks! On the other hand, her can-do, little-engine-that-could act, while annoying, is genuine. We hope our little under-voweled Italian can handle the strain by entertainingly melting down and not in some awkward, mascara-streaked, kitchen-knife-grasping showdown.
Hmmm. On second thought...
OTHER SPECIAL BONUS FEATURE: Previews, Angels!
Even though "Sally's Shag" sounds like something they showed at your father's bachelor party, it is in fact, the name of the preview you can find here.
And in the preview you can find here, it's all "What if Your Stylist Was a Serial Killer?"
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