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I got my hair cut today. It... well, it was kind of a "I have to do this today or else I'm going to put it off forever" sort of thing, so I went to this salon I found down the street (after making ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
deathscytheheck force me out of my room, since I was hiding most of the afternoon because I'm afraid of haircuts). Buuut the girl was really nice, and I had an actual conversation with her. Which is the first time I've manged that with someone cutting my hair because, well, the only other one I've had here was the blue-haired guy, and obviously we didn't have much in common, and I guess all the ones in Ohio are just kind of... actually, I can't really figure out what's wrong with some people in Ohio, but they seem to not pay attention if you're not thinking the same way they are. I think the last time I had a conversation while having my hair cut was when my dental hygienist happened to be there at the same time as me. (It's kind of bad, now that I think of this, that I've had more conversations with someone whose job it is to have her hands in my mouth most of the time I see her than I've had with people of a profession where a good percentage of the work involves gossiping with your client to make them comfortable.) I chickened out on the bangs, since I didn't want to have to deal with making them stay out of my face, but it is shorter now. And there are layers. To save anyone any curiosity, this is what it looks like now:
( Temporary MySpace behind this cut! )
Before I headed back to my apartment I had to go buy a new CTA pass. And, of course, wander a bit to break in the new haircut. Somehow, I didn't read the weather correctly today, because it was freaking 14 degrees out, and I don't even want to imagine what the windchill was. Thankfully, I didn't have to wait too long for the eastbound 70. But, er, in grand CTA fashion there was a raving nutter on the bus who stood up and hugged me as I tried to pass. I had to forcibly remove his hand before it started creeping further down my backside, and it took a very large man sitting in the back corner of the bus to defend me. It was... um... embarrassing, mostly. I figure this sort of thing is just a risk of riding the CTA but, um... actually, maybe this means the haircut looks good. I dunno. But ew. Also, the guy found someone else to pester after the big guy scared him away from me (I owe that guy) and ended up ranting about how he was living large in a mansion on the south side and how he had no bread, and had 98 kids and didn't pay a one of them. Or something. It was... um. It was the CTA, pretty much. Then the Grand was disgustingly late so I had to run a block to catch a different bus, and the Chicago smelled like car oil and pee. Ah, CTA.
And then I got back and we ordered sushi and other deliciousness and watched Margret Cho. And it was at this point that I realized I'd somehow had one of those completely stereotypical Girl's Nights without even intending it. Salon, haircut, chatting with a hair stylist, getting groped on public transit, and coming home to delivery and an angry feminist comedienne. How weird is that?
deathscytheheck force me out of my room, since I was hiding most of the afternoon because I'm afraid of haircuts). Buuut the girl was really nice, and I had an actual conversation with her. Which is the first time I've manged that with someone cutting my hair because, well, the only other one I've had here was the blue-haired guy, and obviously we didn't have much in common, and I guess all the ones in Ohio are just kind of... actually, I can't really figure out what's wrong with some people in Ohio, but they seem to not pay attention if you're not thinking the same way they are. I think the last time I had a conversation while having my hair cut was when my dental hygienist happened to be there at the same time as me. (It's kind of bad, now that I think of this, that I've had more conversations with someone whose job it is to have her hands in my mouth most of the time I see her than I've had with people of a profession where a good percentage of the work involves gossiping with your client to make them comfortable.) I chickened out on the bangs, since I didn't want to have to deal with making them stay out of my face, but it is shorter now. And there are layers. To save anyone any curiosity, this is what it looks like now:( Temporary MySpace behind this cut! )
Before I headed back to my apartment I had to go buy a new CTA pass. And, of course, wander a bit to break in the new haircut. Somehow, I didn't read the weather correctly today, because it was freaking 14 degrees out, and I don't even want to imagine what the windchill was. Thankfully, I didn't have to wait too long for the eastbound 70. But, er, in grand CTA fashion there was a raving nutter on the bus who stood up and hugged me as I tried to pass. I had to forcibly remove his hand before it started creeping further down my backside, and it took a very large man sitting in the back corner of the bus to defend me. It was... um... embarrassing, mostly. I figure this sort of thing is just a risk of riding the CTA but, um... actually, maybe this means the haircut looks good. I dunno. But ew. Also, the guy found someone else to pester after the big guy scared him away from me (I owe that guy) and ended up ranting about how he was living large in a mansion on the south side and how he had no bread, and had 98 kids and didn't pay a one of them. Or something. It was... um. It was the CTA, pretty much. Then the Grand was disgustingly late so I had to run a block to catch a different bus, and the Chicago smelled like car oil and pee. Ah, CTA.
And then I got back and we ordered sushi and other deliciousness and watched Margret Cho. And it was at this point that I realized I'd somehow had one of those completely stereotypical Girl's Nights without even intending it. Salon, haircut, chatting with a hair stylist, getting groped on public transit, and coming home to delivery and an angry feminist comedienne. How weird is that?
