Peculiar encounters of the Purple Hair kind

**I found this draft, 98% complete on my phone so decided to finish it a few days later. Enjoy!**



This morning I realize I slept in.
I typically wake up 5 minutes before my alarm tells me to, which is about an hour earlier than anyone else.

At 5:27am, I glance at the clock and realize the alarm was never set.

As I stare in horror at my cell phone screen, I realize a shoddy attempt was made to set the alarm but I never did swipe the screen to the right.

Everything in life favours right handed people.


If I was to set the alarm and swipe to the left, I’m sure I would have still forgot.

Fighting off sleep to watch a documentary on Randy Johnson’s illustrious baseball career was better than  any type of sleep aid.

What he loses in eloquence, he gains by ensuring the beaning of batters became a fixture of the modern game.

I mull this over.

If I was beaned by Randy Johnson, I probably wouldn’t charge the mound, either.
He always has and always will remind me of a Transformer.


As I scramble to find something else to wear other than a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle t-shirt and flannel pants, I make a mental note that this is the weekend Mount clothing will move off of my floor and into my dresser.

It could happen.

In my haste, I get to the washroom, look in the mirror and smile.

Today is one of the first day I haven’t scared myself by doing this.

Why, you may ask?

It’s because I’m currently sporting purple hair.

I have to admit, it’s been a big change for me.

Here’s what my hair used to look like:

I went from sporting the Angela Bower look to President of the Mindy Cohn fan club:

Hey, at least I’m loyal to my 80’s sitcoms.

With purple hair comes great responsibility.

I cannot tell you the amount of feedback I’ve had because of it.

“I don’t have the guts to do that to my hair!” 

I get that a lot.

Newsflash; you don’t have the looks, either.

Yikes, that was harsh.

Perhaps the colouring has seeped in.

Out of the many encounters and conversations I’ve had about my hair; these three peculiar encounters stand out.

All in the same day too.

Consider them parables with poignant lessons.

Because this blog is also educational.

Peculiar Encounter #1 occurs when a friend of mine sees my hair for the first time and says; “daaaaaaaaaaaaammmn!”

I’m impressed by her seventh inning stretch of the word.

This is followed by two astute observations;

#1 She tells me “You know, that’s going to be a bitch to maintain!”

She’s right. As someone with a hair stylist in her family, she can say things and not get voodoo dolled afterwards.

To this, I respond; “Luckily it’s not me doing the work!”

We laugh.

The way that beautiful people with awesome hair typically do.

#2 She also tells me; “You know, your clothes will never match your hair ever again! Everything is going to clash”

Such a prophecy haunts me this morning as I avoid throwing on a red sweater and curse her name out loud.

Lesson learned: In a world of fake, hang onto those who speak the truth. They are keepers, even if you want to cuff them.

Peculiar Encounter #2 occurs literally outside the office building.

I’m walking along the street and am stopped dead in my tracks by a young woman.

I never knew what dead in my tracks meant until I literally almost killed this person.

“Your hair…it’s amazing!! I love it!” I say thanks because that what nice people do.

For someone who loathes small talk, I certainly have been a catalyst of it.

I ask the student; “What program are you taking?”

“Oh no! I’m not a student! I don’t have a job. I walk up and down the streets all day! Why, are you hiring? Can I work for you?”

I briefly mull over expensing a Personal Assistant or Bodyguard.

I do appreciate her proactive approach.

After more chatting, I send her on her way with a couple of resources and the location to a career centre about 13 minutes up the road.

Lesson learned: It doesn’t cost anything to be a decent human being. Besides, maybe this person will remember you and win cash for life. 

Reciprocity in action.

I kinda like that.

My third and final encounter of the day occurs at the No Frills grocery store.

I can’t think of a better name for a place where good customer service and replenished inventory go to die.

I’m buying soap because there appears to be a soap shortage at home.

Having eaten it regularly as a child, I can say the taste of Ivory is much better than Irish Spring.

The alternative would have been to stop swearing but then I wouldn’t have developed such a discriminating palette.

As I place my soap products out of mouth reach and onto the conveyor, the cashier looks up to say; “I have to tell you, I just love your hair!”

I say “Thanks!” because that’s what nice people do.

He is then joined by a coworker who tells me she wants her hair my colour but her boyfriend won’t allow it.



She looks really sad.

I say “He sounds like a real piece of work!”

And she proceeds to tell me and her coworker how he really is a nice guy, he just likes things certain ways and she just has to ask his permission.

I shrug my shoulders, grab my scented products and leave.

I have nothing positive to add.

Lesson learned: Hair colour can fade but a jerk significant other can sting for a lot longer.

Also, wear a cap next time you go grocery shopping.



One thought on “Peculiar encounters of the Purple Hair kind

Add yours

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

Create a free website or blog at

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: