Feeling the Burn, The Chemical Burn

I've always prided myself on my beautiful hair.  Unfortunately, as of late, it has become increasingly gray and has required frequent visits to the salon.  I used to have my own hair care professional, but unfortunately she upped and moved on me, and I haven't found a competent replacement yet.

**Side Note--Whiskey recommended some born-again Christian FREAK to me, and I thought, I'll give her a whirl since I love Jesus too!  So I go into the salon, and we start with a prayer in which she prayed she wouldn't damage my hair.  She then proceeded to wash my hair, then rinse it with holy water.  As she was drying it, I felt the need to speak in tongues....

The cosmetologist told me that I should color my entire head of hair, dry it, then foil in the highlights.  Me, not having been to hair school myself, thought, "hmmm, she is the professional, so I guess I should trust her."  WRONG.  Never think this.  NEVER listen to the professional.

Upon leaving the salon, I did like my color.  However, as days went by it became increasingly dry.  I decided to go back into the salon to see what the deal was because like I said, I typically have really amazing hair.  Yeah, the broad BURNT my hair.  Apparently the answer to her prayer was NO.  Yeah, this baby-fine-hair now looks like I stuck my finger in a light socket.  Thus requiring me to spend extra money going to the salon for deep conditioning treatments and purchasing additional products to hydrate my dull, lifeless, kinky-ass hair! 

Today, while at said salon getting my hair hydration on, I was put under the heater.  The cosmetologist stepped away, thinking I'd be fine with no problems.  However, I got shifty in the seat.  Was it the drugs I took beforehand?  Was it the diet coke?  How about the sugary cereal.  Needless to say, I had the shakes.  Somehow I managed to knock the free-standing hair dryer over in the middle of my treatment.  I looked around in a panic, and I was unsure what to do.  Thankfully another stylist came to my rescue and replaced the dryer and situated it so that my shifty-ass wouldn't knock it over.

Do things like this happen to everyone or am I the only one?  I mean I pick a faulty cart about every time I enter the grocery store too.  Coincidence?  I think not.  I have a curse.