Reality or something like it

I watched the premiere of Blow Out tonight, Bravo's new reality show centered around the opening of a new Beverly Hills hair salon. I watched this for a variety of reasons. First, it was sandwiched in between episodes of Queer Eye. Second, while I should have been cleaning my room, the mess was far too daunting. Lastly, I worked at a hair salon for about a year and never in my life have I seen such silly drama. And silly drama makes good TV.

Jonathan Antin, main character and celebrity hairstylist, is The World's Biggest Jackass. Seriously. I dig him, however, because he is fully aware that he's a jackass, and is very comfortable in that role.

The hair salon I worked at was so much fun. I was in college, and they just loved having a pierced little freak with bright orange hair to answer the phones and shampoo heads. The owner was George, who proudly sported a sensitive ponytail even though he was nearly bald on top. George was married to a woman, but was the third gayest man I've ever met. The first two being stylists Ken and Edgar. Edgar looked exactly like Tim Curry and was very, very loud. Ken had bleach blond hair and wire-framed glasses. He was very, very quiet, except for when we would sit outside and smoke, when he would viciously rip apart the look of every college girl that walked by. He was abundantly troubled by flannel pants as daywear.

The tone of the day would be set when Ken would walk in. We'd all wait in anticipation to find out if Ken and Edgar were on-again or off-again. Upon Ken's arrival, Edgar would loudly greet him. If Ken responded happily, it was going to be a joyous day at the salon. If Ken ignored Edgar, Edgar would drag him outside where they would yell at each other for at least 15 minutes. Edgar would spend the day flirting with college boys, and Ken would spend the day chainsmoking outside and telling me all about it. On Ken's days off, he would come in anyway to dye my hair the most obnoxious color he could find. I adored them.

Also on my list of adoration was Jen, who had a different hair color and a different boyfriend every week. And Leslie, who looked like Marilyn Monroe and hung out in biker bars. Leslie and Jen complained about George every chance they got. George had a sort of detached amusement about the stylists, their problems and more specifically, their problems with him. One big happy family.

I left the salon when I got a higher-paying job as a shot girl at the freshman bar. It wasn't nearly as much fun. Now, I will relive those happy memories every Tuesday night while watching Blow Out, my newest reality TV addiction.