Manho Cho, Jesus and Peep Toe Friday

I love my stylist. He is a complete freak, so it is quite possible that we were separated at birth. I long ago dubbed him ManHo Cho. Let me set the stage if you will. ManHo is Vietnamese. He was born in Vietnam, but moved to America about 20 years ago. He is flamboyantly gay. He is about 5' 2" tall, wears glitter all over, is addicted to extremely tight Dolce and Gabanna pants with shiny belt buckles and has the best body I have ever seen on a man. I am serious. He is like 2% body fat - it disgusts me.


ManHo also has the best accent ever. It is a gay Asian accent. The closest person I can compare him to is Hank the wedding planner from "Father of the Bride", but with an Asian accent. This makes it somewhat difficult to understand him if you are a new customer, but I know exactly what he is talking about at any time.


Manho: "Wha you wan done with you hayar?" (What do you want done with your hair)

Me: "Whatever, just don't fuck it up."

Me: "I think blonder."

Manho: "OK. We do you up rike Grease Silverspoon."

Me: "The fuck?"

Manho: "You know you look a lot rike Grease Silverspoon, but you prettier than she is and you make me raf."

Me: ".......hmmmm...thinking. Oh shit, you me Reese Witherspoon."

Manho: "Dat's what I say - Grease Silverspoon"

Me: *Snort, Snort* "You are fucked up. Why am I your personal Barbie Doll?"

Manho: "You ret me do whatevah I want and we always makes you rook fah-bu-lous, yes?"

Me: "Yeah. Plus I tip you a shitload, so I better look good."

Manho: "You so funny. We love ADW."

So last week, I went in to get my hair done at the last minute and subsequently had to share chair time with a really cool chick named Stacey. She writes copy for Greeting Cards which fucking rocks. I can't even imagine the foulness that would ensue if I had that job. Even better, I know a crazy, Diet Coke swilling gorilla who writes effing fantastic postcards - go see them here. But anyway, I was a few minutes late because there was a SICK ASS shoe sale at Macy's. I got five pairs of extremely beautiful shoes and the best part was that they were all on sale. They were also all peep-toed, but I don't care because I have an addiction that I never want to go away. So while I was waiting for ManHo to mix my color, he demanded that I model the shoes for him and Stacey. I did and had all of the stylists commenting on how fabulous my new shoes were. They really are beautiful. I will post some pics of my shoes up here soon. It is a real illness and my husband is an enabler...

So after a mutual admiration session and a lot of oohing and ahhing, Man Ho got down to the business of making me look fabulous. Actually, I am already fabulous, but he iced me up a little bit. At one point in time, I was bent over at the waist in his chair staring at his flip flops and french-manicured toe nails (I once convinced him to have his toenails painted white with black Asian Characters on them - it fucking rocked) when he started talking about his new gym. Previously, we were both members of the same gym until I realized what a waste of my hard earned cash that was. I mean why work out when you can snort coke all day long to stay skinny? But I digress. This is going to be difficult to get just right, but I am going to try.

The Gym Conversation:

Me: "You switched gyms?"

ManHo: "Yah. XXXX Gym was being too white trash foh me."

Me: "Where are you working out now?"

ManHo: "Wallllll. I go to XXXX gym now. Look at me. Feel my arms."

At this point in time, he flips me up and out of the chair and makes me feel his body. Oh my fucking shit. I have NEVER in my life felt a hotter body. The fact that it was on a flaming gay Asian Dude made me sad since there is no chance for the ladies out there to enjoy those huge arms and rock-hard abs. Then he shoves me back into my seat and flips me back over.

Me: "Are you on fucking steroids? Because your arms are HUUUGGGEEE!!!"

ManHo: "Ha, Ha. You know I no put no drugs in my body. I wook owt awl de time. You feel how big my ahms get?"

Me: "Yup. Too bad you're gay. Fuck."

Me: "Wait a second. I KNOW you don't go prancing around in that white unitard and glitter like you did at our old gym. No frigging way do they let you get away with that at the new one. What do you wear?"

Manho: "Well I am more cohn-sew-va-tive at the new prace (place). I wear T-Shirt and Showt Pants."

Me: "Explain these "Short" pants to me."

ManHo: "Wayall.. Dey ahr black and tight and dey go down to here." He is now pointing to mid calf.

Me: Laughing hysterically. "Dude you are wearing fucking CAPRIs to the gym. Capri pants. Can you get any gayer?"

We laugh and joke for the rest of the time I am getting my blond on and then I switch seats with Stacey and he starts her cut. I am doing my normal clown routine; making jokes and poking fun at all of the fug walking by the window when Stacey stops laughing and asks ManHo if I am his favorite customer. I cut them off before he can answer and tell her that he loves all of his customers the same (He really doesn't play favorites). Then I proceed to hear the funniest thing I have heard in a really long time:

ManHo: "I rove all of my peoples duh same."

Me: "He really does."

ManHo: "I really do. I am rike Jesus. I love all da peoples da same. Yes I am rike Jesus."

Pan the camera to Stacey and I falling out of our chairs laughing. You can't help but love a hairdresser that compares himself to Jesus. Straight or Gay; Christian, Atheist or in between, the fact that he compared himself to Jesus has got to make you laugh. The fact that he was serious and said that with a straight face is even funnier. You should have seen the looks that we were getting from the rest of the uptight, stick-in-the-ass, lock jawed titlickers in the joint. It was PRICELESS!!!