as i sat waiting for my haircut this morning i watched with intent eyes the hairdresser who was to determine the fate of my golden locks. she had tattoos all over her back which you could see easily when she bent over. i have to admit she was quite the hottie. other admirable qualities, such as carefully cutting around a 3 year old's shoulder-length mullet instead of hacking off such a monument to american perseverence, did not go unnoticed either. i had a good feeling about this one.

i sat down in the chair.

"what would you like me to do with it?"

"i'm not sure. it's been shaggy for awhile. i'm getting kinda tired of it being in my eyes. do what you want."

"ok. what if i shorten it up a little in the back and on the sides and leave the top longer."

"that'll be just fine."

there was apparently some discrepancy between what i think of as "a little" and what she thinks of as "a little." let's just say that i could join the army and come through basic training without the army barber ever having to touch my hair. it's gone. all gone.

the thing is...i don't care as much as i thought i would. sure she cut off my sideburns without giving me the option of keeping them. and she cut it a wee bit shorter than i would have liked. but after i got home and washed it and put some wax in it i molded it into something thantastic (than is a nickname for those who don't know me).

in other news, my mom bought my christmas present today. a dvd/vcr player combo. score!