laina down under

lessons from the university of melbourne and the school of hard knocks.

Monday 12 February 2007

hair (not to be confused with the hippie musical)


today i chanced upon a woman who looked exactly like the above troll. the only differences were that she had red hair instead of fuschia, was not waving a happy birthday flag, and was clothed. i almost jumped off the tram to ask her who her stylist is, where she buys the hair product that allows her to make the sort of coif that is usually the result of sticking one's finger in an electrical socket, and whether or not she lives under flemington bridge with her other troll counterparts. (i think it would have been a bit presumptuous of me to ask whether or not she carried a red jewel in her navel).

the oddest thing about the situation is that, from the forehead down, she looked like your average matronly grandmother: white summer pants, floral shirt, pushing her granddaughter in a pram. i will say that i don't think it was a coincidence that her hair perfectly matched the flowers in her top, because anyone who puts that much time & effort into her hairstyle is obviously dressing accordingly.

and on another hairdo-related note, on my way home today i passed the supreme court of victoria on william street and was delighted to see the judges outside for the afternoon, dressed to the nines in robes and wigs, one of the benefits of being a judge or barrister in a Commonwealth nation. however, i was dismayed to notice that no one's wig was fitted properly, and their natural hair peeked out the sides and bottom. we will assume that the state can afford to hire a qualified wigmaker, so why the ill-fittedness? a brief google image search showed that apparently that is how the wigs are supposed to fit, which i find tacky in the same way that wearing a bathing suit without shaving/waxing one's bikini line is tacky. perhaps if someone presented that analogy to the supreme court's resident wigmaker, they would add some much-needed coverage to the current style, and i could commute home without visions of pubes dancing in my head. better yet, let's commission the troll-lady to design next season's headwear for victoria's legal community.

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1 Comments:

Blogger Alejandra Ramos said...

2,000 years ago, when O'Keefe and I were dating, he called and told me that he needed a picture of me because his friends in california didn't believe that he really had a girlfriend named Alejandra in DC. They suspected that I might look like a troll since he was keeping me hidden, and once he revealed that I do, in fact, carry a red jewel in my navel, my fate was sealed. They called me the Gem Troll, until they saw a picture. And then they realized I was hot. And all was forgotten.

12:52 pm  

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