Oh Rue. You think you can just WALK into this school and be popular? How actually very dare you. Sit DOWN, girl, I’ve spent seven years trying to be the popular one, and then you flounce in here one day with your movie-star hair and try to steal away all my life’s work. I was THIS close to getting Jennifer to invite me to her pool party, and now Rue gets an invitation on her first day, and I’m like ‘girl, you better stop that nonsense RIGHT NOW, you hear?’

Oh, but she’s all ‘connected’, so she says. Her Mum is the CEO of some big company that provides scissors to the Aveda hair salons, and, like…okay, if that’s true, I’m gonna have to bury my hatred and pretend to be nice to this girl. Aveda is super exclusive. I got my hands on some of it once and it was like the hair product of the Olympian gods. It happened to coincide with the history elective I did, and Mr Kelso was SUPER boring even when he was talking about mythology stuff, but I remember sitting in his class and day-dreaming about Aveda, and how if I was Aphrodite, or Hera, I’d totally force mortals to go get me some from the mortal realm, so I can slather it onto my hair every single day, and THEN my hair would glow like I was some divine being, even though I was one already.

So, this Rue has connections to every single hair salon near the Melbourne CBD, and this makes her a hair powerhouse. Even though I hate her existence, I need to play this right. Just gotta be cool. Use your seven years of training. Worm your way into her good books, make her think we’re super buddies, and then…hair products. Hair products, all day, forever. The best products money can buy, and they’ll all be mine!

Ahh, friendship is so great, don’t you think?

–Leah

Someone did it. Some crazy person actually did it.

I’m not the most avid fan of Lizard’s Lair, but I will catch it on occasion if I’m doing some ironing, or maybe assembling some flat-pack furniture. I tell myself it’s because of the wacky inventions and the innovation, but really, it’s just good fun to see the judges tearing people to shreds. And this…was one of those times.

I had my tea, I had a table/chair combo that needed assembling, and THEY had a helmet that supposedly styled your hair for you.

Silly. Ridiculous. Foolish. It was all of these things. Worst thing was that one of the panellists is notorious for having a long and varied career, and she used to own her own hair salon.  In St James Place where all the best shopping is located!  Anyway, she plays the middle-ground role of the one who’s tough but fair, and she raised some important questions about the actual viability of the product when creating elaborate hairstyles. The mean one said it was preposterous (always so mean!) and the nice one said it was time to give them a chance to try it out.

So this poor, bespectacled fellow had to stick the helmet onto his own head, promising all the way that ‘it would do the job of a thousand hairdressers’. Long story short: the thing caught fire, his hair caught fire, he put it out with his own product blueprints and then tried to show the panel that his hair had been flawlessly transformed from stray curls to wavy curls. And on that day, some amusing television was created. I was pretty satisfied, although I have my hair salon located in South Melbourne, I don’t think I’ll be giving to this guy’s donation page any time soon. Good idea, just…some poor execution that only the finest, trashiest reality television could produce.

-N