Run, don't walk, to the perm sale

So I'm cleaning out my computer files at work, because I gave notice at my job last week. My notice wasn't the usual two week notice, but three months based on the terms I laid out. They get to look for a candidate, hire one, and then I train them while handing over all open projects to them. In return, I get to openly look for a job without having to sneak around and jumping at the first available opportunity that doesn't suit me. Sweet deal, right? I've been doing a happy dance since then.

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But I also know I'm in dangerous territory now and anything could happen. I'm not safe. They could change their minds and haul my tush right out of there. And I really don't want to explain why I have pictures of Flava Flav dolls, my friends and I completely schnockered, and The Sun's Page 3 girl on my hard drive.

So, it was while I was cleaning out my computer that I came across this photo, which I had intended to use in an earlier post, but life takes over, you know?

This was the annual Hans Maxem February perm sale, people! It was closed on that Sunday when I took this picture, so you can only imagine what kind of physical response this promotion actually got. Had I shown up one day earlier, the crowds would have been fearsome. There's no question in my mind that I would have been trampled by a perm sale induced frenzy. This is the moment they'd been waiting for all year!

Satisfied members of Hans' illustrious clientele include:

The lead singer of Nickelback...

Carrot Top...

Mr. Brady, may he rest in peace...

and of course, Miss Piggy

Now I don't want to perpetuate the stereotype of the New Jersey girl, as I am one at heart, but...given that this salon is out in the wilds of Jersey, you know this is serious shet. That's not just a housewife from Paramus, that's a lean, mean root-perming machine. And that cheerleader from Teaneck? Get in the way of her spirals and she's totally pom-pomming your ass.

This event is not for the faint of heart. We're talking serious bodily injury - think running with the bulls in Pamplona.

"You do not...talk...about the perm sale!"