Okay, hi! It's Friday afternoon, that magical part of the week when times stops dead. I'm in a good mood, though, it's sort of hard not to be. I drove to work listening to a "back in the day" mix that Kenny's friend Brandon made for us. It's full of old punk, rock and ska. The Clash! Madness! The Stranglers! The Replacements! I love that stuff.
The big news (to me, anyway) is that I finally am free of the clutches of my old salon. I'd been going there for years and they kept fucking me. Like, I'd find The Perfect Stylist and then, boom, that person would get promoted and my $40 hair cut was suddenly $80. le sigh. Each time it happened I'd be shunted off on someone else and the most recent time I just wasn't feeling the love anymore. Wah.
Then a few months ago I saw a girl at the gym with the cutest-ever messy razor cut, exactly the kind of cut I was looking for. I stalked her and finally got up the nerve to ask her who cut her hair. She told me that her friend Jerrod cut it for her and gave me the name of the salon where he worked. I immediately pictured a very cute gay boy with fun hair who'd chat with me about what a whore Angelina Jolie is while whipping my hair into perfection. Yay!
I made an appointment. I cancelled it (because of the CA trip.) I called early this week and rescheduled it for yesterday on my lunch break. I was a bit nervous, not having gone to a new salon in YEARS but I kept reminding myself of how cute that girls cut was and soldiered on.
In the salon I started to get unnerved again because none of the stylists looked anything like the Jerrod picture in my head. He wasn't that guy working over in the corner (who, incidentally, goes to my gym and who I think I've mad fun of more than once), it wasn't the buttoned up preppie looking guy who kept walking by me without even glancing in my direction.
And then! I saw him. The tiniest little super-cute gay boy. He was like an Olsen twin in gay man form! I wanted to put him in my pocket and take him home. We chatted and I found out that he'd actually been trained by a stylist I loved from from my old salon. She broke my heart first by being promoted and then by moving to Florida to live with her girlfriend (who was also her AA sponsor. Oops.) Anyway, he gave me a really cute little razor cut and was happy to discuss Angelina Jolie with me. It was great. We bonded over our disdain for the whole "I need to keep my hair long enough to put it in a ponytail" cop-out. (You know who you are. Break free!)
And now, sort of blurry pictures: