How ’bout the time my hair caught on fire? That’s always good for a laugh.
So I’m talking to Cindy Kaplan and Martha Sharpe in the bar while setting up for Wednesday’s show when my hair sets on fire. My back is to the counter and my hair dangles down into a candle and pfloom — I see smoke start ascending from behind my shoulders like wings and someone yells, “Amanda!” Then “Oh my God, Oh my God!” Martha turns me around and Cindy starts wacking at my back and head. I feel nothing, because as Cindy pointed out, hair has no feelings. But, because I feel nothing I think it’s my dress that’s on fire and I’m pretty calm because I can’t actually see the flames, but am really bummed about my dress. But if my dress is on fire I should probably take it off, but there are people already at the bar and I’m not wearing my good underwear so I keep it on. As soon as Cindy pans the flames out, I realize that it wasn’t my dress, but my hair and I slowly raise my hand to feel the back of my hair — c-r-u-n-c-h – I’m horrified. “My hair!” Cindy goes in for the save with, “It’s okay, it was already layered.” I go to the bathroom and start pulling out reams of my hair, full on thickets of the back of my hair. The entire bar smells like burning hair. Robert, the bar manager, appears with a bottle of Febreze and starts spraying my hair, which makes it, um, kind of worse. So I’m standing at the mic, about to start the show, facing a room filled with smoke and the scent of burnt hair while my own is charred and dripping wet with odor absorbing spray. Fun times. I’ve washed my hair about 8 times since then and am pleased to report – almost all the smell is gone. Almost.
More on the actual show soon…
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