Make New (i)friends Monday: She's Supah D & She's Here to Rock

Or, should I say, rap?!

Because anyone with a name like Supah D. can only be introduced in true playa-pimp, gangsta-boogie, Sir Mix-A-Lot stylizzle with a rap accompaniment.

It's only fair.

Performed (yes, I performed it to ensure it's authenticity and awesomeness) to Baby got Back (a song every self respecting child of the 90s is familiar with).

Feel free to click on the link and sing along using my much improved version of the lyrics.

I like Supah D and I can not lie.
You other bloggers can't deny.
That when Supah walks in with her hand on her waist
and that round thing in your face you get jealous!

Wanna go up to her 'cause you wanna be on her Skype.

Deep in the blogs she's writin'
I'm hooked and I love her Skypin'!

Oh, Supah, we wanna get witcha.
And take yo picture!

My blog buds tried to warn me,
but them blogs you write make me so horny.

Oh, Rumple-smooth-words, you even have awesome turds!
Well use me, use you me, 'cause I'm obviously your groupie.

I see her bloggin', to hell with roll calling.

She's sweat, wet, losing that sumo suit soon I bet.

I'm tired of other sites,
sayin' Supah ain't dynomite.
Take the average Dumb Mom and ask her that,
she tell you Supah is phat!

So Bloggers! (Yeah!) Bloggers (Yeah!)
Wanna meet my Supah D? (Hell Yeah!)
Then read it! Read it! Read today's guest post!
Supah is dope!

PA face with a WV Booty (insert some mad, funky-fresh, record scratching here)

Supah is dope!

Now, shut yo mouth, Becky!

ifriend post by Supah D. from Adventures of a Wannabe SupahMommy:

WOOO DOGGY !

So PBD has invited me over for a super special IFriend Event at her place cause we're all BFF's now.. yah that's right FORMER PBD BFF'S.. there's a new girl in town... and her name is SUPAH!

What?

ifriend Monday?

For weeks now?

* insert stink face

Ok.. So I guess I'm not all UBER special like PBD ( PLBBBBBTTTT )has made me out to be in her long drawn out emails spewing her love for me. Enough already PBD.. I get it. K?

So.. I'll leave you with my little guest posty and maybe you'll come visit me if you'd like. Ring my doorbell... but if you ring it and LEAVE... just know this. I may be a heffer... but .. I can run. By Golly I can run. So I hope you can too... you prankster mcpranksterston.


Breakin Up is Hard To Doo.

So all my life I've had a hairdresser. And by all my life I mean since college. I'm no debutante. I could rock a puffy cloud dress.. but I'm not debutante material .. I swear too much... let's be %$#^* (^clear.

CJ was my first hair- doo lover. CJ .. was a dude with effeminate scissor hands. I loved him. Was he Gay? I had no idea. It was the question that plagued me for years. He was always so durn stealthy... making me think one minute he was... the next he wasn't. Years. And to this day.. 15 years later. I still do not know. I think he knew what game he was playing.

CJ's real name was CLAIRE. No joke. He admitted this to me in a moment of ... well.. I'm not sure why he told me that fact.. because I seriously.. LAUGHED OUT LOUD and asked him if he were joshin. With some swear words mixed in.

He wasn't.
I quickly shut IT UP for fear of hair retaliation. * in my head though.. i was sayin

" claires' a fat girls name."


All you youngins and non Brat Packers won't get that.

So we had this GREAT relationship. He cut my hair awesome.
Until I became a mom. Then .. I think he was under the impression that because I had birthed children.. I was no longer COOL!

SAY WHUT????

He kept giving me BOBS. ..I coulda put dangly snowflake earrings on and worn a kitty kat sweatshirt to match the styles he was edward scissorhandin'.

I endured for a bit.
Then I experienced the " last straw."

THIS IS HOW IT WENT DOWN.


Let's take a trip back to 2004 when CJ Betrayed me.



So ladies and gentleman, here it is. I have OFFICIALLY with a capital "O" ( and not even the good kind) been BEE –TRAY- YED by my hairdresser, hair stylist, hair cutter- rer- er person, hair designer: WHATEVER , YOU PICK. Yes, my (insert selected word) whom:
· I love dearly
· WHO I have remained ever:

1. loyal,
2. faithful
3. devoted,
4. steadfast
5. dedicated to for almost a decade.

YES, A DECADE. (what can be accomplished in a decade you might ask; WELL THE FOLLOWING
1. it took us 10 years to send a man to the moon
2. it took us 10 years to move from typewriters to palm pilots

CJ -
· Who I secretly planned visits to Pittsburgh around when I was ABROAD.
· Whom my lovely locks ( that I adore, one of my best attributes I feel, one of the only things on my body that aren't fat) have followed through 5 salon moves.

· As well as a rate increase of 15$

Yes, my Hair- doo dresser

HAS CROSSED THE LINE.

Now I feel I OWE you a bit of quick history, you might feel the need to be brought up to speed on the situation. Perhaps you are thinking, WHY SUPAH? Who IS this person who has EVIL- ed YOU? Then again, if you are like most people, you might not.

My lovely locks and I have not always been this chummy. We, at several points in my life just… DID NOT GET ALONG. I have picture evidence to prove it.

Not until I was about 23 did I actually begin to listen to the whispers of my lovely locks demands: Get a good hairdresser.

I agreed and we have since been cooperative. I immensely enjoy my hair, I get many compliments and as mentioned above, it is still one of my best attributes. Still full and thick, nice color and still THE ONLY NON FAT PART OF MY BODY –

So I stumbled up on CJ, a hairdresser from literally another world. He is freakin hilarious. Tells stories that sideline the ongoing cut for minutes at a time while we all double over, keeps up with the latest hair trends, has worked his way up to his own dream salon ( paid for with my loyalty) and is quite possibly gay. He has afforded me wonderfully cool cuts, great chocolaty color, perfect wedding day updos and great conversation for many a year. Alas…

Things had begun to change I noticed the last few appointments (which require friggin years in advance bookings). He jokingly called me a "soccer mom"

*GASPS. And then gave me a really cute haircut, that he deemed

SUBURBAN HOUSWIFE.

*DOUBLE GASP. I laughed and forgave his shortcomings.

And this time as I arrived for my appointment, late in the evening, I find CJ and I BOTH in the parking lot. Oddly he and I vied for the same parking spot ???( him in his 06 cool a$ jeep, me in my tan Volvo cross country station wagon which I ADOREd)

Why he is out and about you may ask when it is indeed, haircuttery time?

Well, he needed a smoke and decided to move his jeep up to the front whilst his client sat under the big blow dry thingy machine thingy.

So we both get out and give big hugs and then he says

, "LOOK AT YOU IN YOUR…."

"GROCERY GETTER!"

Okay are you noticing a theme yet. Some subtle, possible disgruntled feelings towards us little harmless suburbanite, station wagon driving stay at home moms who might attend a soccer game or two. Here and there, every night of the week.? Yeah maybe.

So anyways long story short we have great conversations, lots of laughs, CJ offers a glass of wine ( I decline, due to diet) and then we begin the haircuttery process.

"What r we doing today, he casually asks?"
"Oh, I don't know, I stupidly say, I love the length but it's kind of weighed down. Maybe some bangs to cover up the dent in my forehead! "

Ha ha, we have a good laugh at that, determining all the terribly explicit ways that could've happened.


Anyways good laughs. We're primed for haircut time.
Completely trusting his judgment we move forward.

IN hindsight I notice the following tidbits:

I notice CJ looks tired. A bit PEAK-ED. Perhaps a long day filled with lots of others locks. Perhaps stifling his creativity, ability to do good hair, ability to mulTi-task, perhaps egging on his aggressions towards the white collar folk. ? Don't Know.

I also in 20/20 hindsight, wonder if CJ himself has indulged in a glass or two of the ol' vino.? No breathalyzer available at that moment to test him for drinking whilst hair-doo-ing.


So he begins the cut and I of course have no idea what he's doing, cause I simply rarely look in the mirror. (feelings of inadequacy while hair is dripping wet, slicked like a seal on my head and pores are spotlighted due to fluorescents) Not a pretty picture.

So he's CHOPPING AWAY. He says, "I'm just goinna trim the ends so we keep the length." Cut cut snip snip. This is okay.

He cuts in my bangs. Which I immediately don't like, but am stuck with. At least it will hide my forehead dent.

Then he stops and begins on the top. BIG HUGE CUTS. BIG HUGE SNIPS. The sounds make me look up. As he catches my eye he digresses into a conversation about trying a "NEW CUT" he recently learned on me- the next time I come in.

He's not COMFORTABLE ENOUGH to TRY IT RIGHT NOW ... SEEING as he just learned it this morning.

" And then proceeds to say

" THIS NEW CUT, that I"ll do NEXT TIME... WELL IT'S THE UPDATED VERSION OF THE CUT IM DOING NOW" laugh laugh


Pardon- a – moi CJ?

Am I getting an NON current haircut at this given moment? A DOLLAR STORE VERSION?? PANIC SETTING IN.

"I'm goinna give you some LAYERS on top, to give you some lift." He states.

PPPPP-ANIC. LAYERS???? LIFT??? ON TOP????




Shoot to punchline. All said and done……


I am OFFICIALLY, with a capital "o" a walking image of none other than Miss JOAN JETT! circa 1982

It is inevitable. I will walk down the street and someone over the age of 30 will whisper,

"Oh my god, LOOK BECKY!!! It's JOAN JETT!
THEN they'll let loose.. unable to contain their excitement for seeing Joan Jett;


""AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH" (CONCERT SCREAM)
..
.
.
.
.
.dead stop- once they see me.









"She got really fat."


* bo domp ching


It was RiFrickULOUS. And I had to break up with him. HAVE YOU ever had to break up with your hairdresser?


xoxox©
supah