Lock, curls and barrel

There are some simple contraptions that scare the hell out of me. A simple example could be a mixer-grinder. It’s more the spinning blades than the apparatus itself that makes my heart want to break out of my ribcage.

I think it has something to do with the incident I had with the clothes dryer we had back home when I was a kid. It was one of those simple dryers, which, during those dark ages, needed to be bought separately from the washing machine. This story begins with one of my unfortunate trysts with the damned dryer. It was nothing more than a simple case of under-loading [that, folks, is the opposite of overloading] the machine, but, for me, something went horribly wrong. It was, what you’d call, a life-changing experience.

After I loaded – or under-loaded, if you please – the machine with my clothes, the bugger grumbled, roared, bumped around like some crazy ball, spun out of control and finally blew its top off – literally! Not only did the dryer’s lid came flying off, it also grazed against my skin, tearing away a good chunk of skin from my hand. Since then, I’ve never looked at a spinning apparatus [especially the ones operated by electricity] the same, simple, naïve, trusting way.

So, it was a few weeks back that a hair straighter somehow found its way to the pad I share with Crazy P. The little black thingy looked harmless enough but I chose to remain skeptical. Exhausted by my, what Crazy P would like to call, ‘unfounded fear of technology’, he tried the little meanie on his ‘just washed’ wet curly locks.

The locks were stubborn, just like their owner. After coming out of the mouth of the black monster, a.k.a. that black hair straighter, his hair was not exactly curly and not close to being straight. It was, like they say, something in between. So to make a believer out of me – and maybe also to convince himself that technology still works – he slapped on a good amount of hair gel on his curls – or what once used to be curls. [Okay, I admit, applying hair gel was my stupid idea.] The little black meanie opened its jaws like a hungry crocodile. As soon as it closed shut its jaws, out came a cry of help from his locks – SIZZLE! SIZZLE! SIZZLE! – as if someone was preparing sizzlers on top of his head.

I’m still not sure that incident turned me into a staunch supporter of technology but it sure did acquaint me with a new smell – that of roasted hair gel. And did his curls become straight? Let me tell you: I’m now of the opinion that it’ll be a whole lot easier to turn a gay man straight.

And yes, a mixer-grinder still scares the shit out of me. As for those stand-alone clothes dryer, thank God, they don’t make them any more.