Wednesday, February 14, 2007

I Can't Believe it's not Hair Product

I held the phone in one hand and began dialling the number with the other.

"Hang on!"

My daughter reached forward, pushing my head down to her eye level and plucking something from my tresses with the speed and aplomb of an ape picking lice off a hairy chum.

"What? What is it?"

"You've got something in your hair."

"Oh my god, is it cooties?"


A bit of a pause.

"It's butter."

The number I had dialled rang on throughout this exchange and was answered at this point, but I was laughing too hard to speak.

I mean, it's enough to have butter in your hair, but understandable, if it is in the long bits at the front that may have accidentally encountered the toast at breakfast. But this was a sizeable nugget of butter, right on the very top of my head. How? How is it possible to get butter there? And to complete the hilarity was the knowledge that I had just finished a busy morning of interviewing people for seasonal staff vacancies. I had also been looking after a photographer who had come to take some pictures for conservation purposes. At no point had any of these people commented on my buttery barnet. They must have seen but didn't like to say anything. Maybe the interviewees thought it was a test of some sort. Maybe they thought I had become confused about using product in my hair and had unwisely opted for a dairy product. I may never know.

Eventually I managed to regain my self-control. "I'm sorry," I sputtered down the phone, "I've just been informed there is butter in my hair."

Luckily it was my mother, who opted to completely ignore that interesting and informative conversation starter and chatter on regardless. I handed the phone to my daughter and left them to it. I had buttery hair to de-grease.


Reginald said...

I thought your real name was Marge?
Anyway, maybe you meant to don a deer stalker for a stroll round the grounds but couldn't tell the difference?
Oh well, you should start calling McColleague Beavis? You would make a good team.

stitchwort said...

That was very funny.

zak said...

Oh BTW *loving* the last poster's working of the butter themes. I spend quite a lot of my time trying to do verbal riffs on bosoms, front bottoms and anal gangbangs so I always appreciate a bit of wordplay.
Anyway, I thinkl you got butter in yor hair because your hubby is a Vile Comestibles-Related Pervert. And he watned to put the butter Somewhere Else but missed.
(and you're pissibly not goint to put tis drunken post up for pjblic consumption.. XXX love you all)

mym said...

Ancient egyptian women used to place cones of perfumed fat on their heads, which would, over the course of the day/night, melt and run smellily down over their (now) gleaming barnets.

This is yet more evidence that you are, in fact, Clepopatra reincarnated.

Boz said...

Hee hee hee! Very good.

And for using REAL butter, not I-Can't-Believe-It's-Not-Butter-Oh-Really-I-Certainly-Can type substitue we salute you!

Anonymous said...

I can't believe it's not I Can't Believe It's Not Butter ...