Thursday, September 20, 2007

I Blame the Roller Derby

After cutting my bangs with the kitchen scissors a few days ago, I realized I am in desperate need of a hair cut -- a real one, from someone who knows what they are doing. I called my one and only favorite hair clipper professional and (gasp) was told that she was "out of commission".

If you don't have curly hair, you do not realize how hard it is to find someone who knows how to cut it. After a lifetime of bad haircuts that left me with a stylish round old lady perm style bubble head, I got into the habit of bringing a hat that I could put on as I fled the salon to get back home and curse whatever DNA strain I could blame for giving me this stupid headful of fuzzy.

Finally (!) I found someone who, even if can't perform transforming MIRACLES (dammit) at least they can smooth out my frizz (somewhat) and not scold me or ask any questions when I come in with uneven areas because I got frustrated and went at it with the kitchen scissors. Added bonus -- she likes good movies and music and travel so we have something more to discuss than the usual whatsitwhat gossiping girl things (of which I hate and will not discuss.)

When I called for an appointment, I was told my favorite clipper was having knee surgery and was "out of commission." If only she wasn't also a Roller Derby Girl and putting her life into danger on a weekly basis, I could be getting my hair cut instead of worrying about whether she has complete medical insurance coverage.

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