Hair Affair
In far too much of an overtired and overexcited state to stop blogging now (due partly to Betty and partly to being ALONE IN A BIG HOUSE and partly to the effect of writing that last post). Sure, its 2:30am, but do I have to be up at any particular time in the morning? Nope. Anytime before lunch to feed pets and walk dogs but NOTHING else specifically planned for tomorrow/today! Am I gloating? AM I EVER! And so, you get more rambling from the wee small hours of my mind...
First thing I did on my first day in Melbourne was to drag sweet Cutthroat op-shopping. This was mildy successful for my part, providing a spangly lycra dress to wear to the opening and Q&A that evening and other sundries. Before retail therapy though I REALLY needed to get a haircut. So C took me to Dr Follicles, site of my Most Amazing Fun Barber Haircut Ever. We went in, and the guy cutting hair seemed rather perplexed. He looked at me, and asked what I wanted. 'Well, a haircut' I replied, only to be told that 'we don't do ladies' haircuts'. Hurrumph! DO I LOOK LIKE A LADY? 'That's funny, I got my hair cut here last September'. He eyes me more closely, then says 'R did it!'. 'Yep, what have you done with him?'. 'He doesn't work here anymore and we don't know where he is'. Grr. I bet they don't know where he is- he was divine! A purely filthy boy who fell for my piercings, insisted that he was the one to do my hair, gave me a brilliant cut and then INSISTED that I would be attending Beyond and he would poke holes in me there (that last bit didn't eventuate, quite possibly 'cos I was too busy getting my boots done by an almost naked Bear and following around a skinhead in a red gas mask but hey, that's not the point). To cut a long story short Zoo was all grumpy-pants and 'this would never happen in Sydney!' melodramatic about being pissed off by some beige gayboy, and with all the Betty business I didn't end up getting it cut at all and so still look like an eccentrically furred teddy bear- and not in a good way. But being in my optimistic mood I figure this has just given me more opportunity to go scouring websites for THE perfect cut. Usually I end up with either some random barber's interpretation of my hand-waving and vague 'no, this bit should be shorter than that bit and go like this' or just getting out the clippers and shaving whatever bits most offend my aesthetic sensibilities. So, for the second time recently (re May21) I find myself back at the SkinMarvin site, ostensibly looking for a new coiffure but most just perving. (Oh, and did I mention that I met someone at Betty that not only knew what a scally was but obviously wriggled at the thought? Tied in nicely with a very silly conversation I was having with someone else about doing rude things whilst wearing his green and gold adidas trakkie *g*.) And yet again I find myself at the cropshop archives too. Military? Flattop? Faux hawk again? Definately NOT a side part... who knew it could be this difficult to decide?
First thing I did on my first day in Melbourne was to drag sweet Cutthroat op-shopping. This was mildy successful for my part, providing a spangly lycra dress to wear to the opening and Q&A that evening and other sundries. Before retail therapy though I REALLY needed to get a haircut. So C took me to Dr Follicles, site of my Most Amazing Fun Barber Haircut Ever. We went in, and the guy cutting hair seemed rather perplexed. He looked at me, and asked what I wanted. 'Well, a haircut' I replied, only to be told that 'we don't do ladies' haircuts'. Hurrumph! DO I LOOK LIKE A LADY? 'That's funny, I got my hair cut here last September'. He eyes me more closely, then says 'R did it!'. 'Yep, what have you done with him?'. 'He doesn't work here anymore and we don't know where he is'. Grr. I bet they don't know where he is- he was divine! A purely filthy boy who fell for my piercings, insisted that he was the one to do my hair, gave me a brilliant cut and then INSISTED that I would be attending Beyond and he would poke holes in me there (that last bit didn't eventuate, quite possibly 'cos I was too busy getting my boots done by an almost naked Bear and following around a skinhead in a red gas mask but hey, that's not the point). To cut a long story short Zoo was all grumpy-pants and 'this would never happen in Sydney!' melodramatic about being pissed off by some beige gayboy, and with all the Betty business I didn't end up getting it cut at all and so still look like an eccentrically furred teddy bear- and not in a good way. But being in my optimistic mood I figure this has just given me more opportunity to go scouring websites for THE perfect cut. Usually I end up with either some random barber's interpretation of my hand-waving and vague 'no, this bit should be shorter than that bit and go like this' or just getting out the clippers and shaving whatever bits most offend my aesthetic sensibilities. So, for the second time recently (re May21) I find myself back at the SkinMarvin site, ostensibly looking for a new coiffure but most just perving. (Oh, and did I mention that I met someone at Betty that not only knew what a scally was but obviously wriggled at the thought? Tied in nicely with a very silly conversation I was having with someone else about doing rude things whilst wearing his green and gold adidas trakkie *g*.) And yet again I find myself at the cropshop archives too. Military? Flattop? Faux hawk again? Definately NOT a side part... who knew it could be this difficult to decide?
Labels: rambling
posted by Zoo at 2:32 am
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