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what's up?
Yo. Dude. It has been raining up in this town. We here in San Diego are NOT made for rain. Actually we are not ready for anything other than 85 degrees and sunshine. So this rain, thunder, and junk has been CRAZY. Look, we were “rained in”! LOL. Whatevs. So this past Wednesday was a big day in spite of the weather. The big NOH8 Campaign was in town. You know, big photographer, celebs, professional photo, duct tape mouth? YES. So of course with this going on, Richard and I were in. So we planned ahead, got out of work early and braved the weather. WE got to the very HIDDEN location in the gayborhood early enough that there was no wait. The photographer, Adam Bouska clearly adored my Richard. It was like an *eternity* till my turn. And I’ll admit, the white shirt, white backdrop, and tape scared me. I have lighting issues due to my hairline receding and all. And to put tape over my beard (the most loved change I’ve made) left me feeling insecure. So my actual photo may SUCK. I am glad I did it tho. The experience of being Professionally Photographed was amazing. Amazing. The camera, the direction, the flash. Awesome. Plus the cause and all. I hope my photo is awesome, yet I fear… anyhooo here I am just after at Urban Mo’s wondering if I need to build an ark to survive the floods..
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anger management •
what's up?
I went up to the gayborhood to get my haircut again today. It had been a really long time since the last one. I was waay over due. It was disappointing though. My usual gal had jury duty. I almost left I found out. Everyone else there is so snooty. Especially for a Fantastic Sam’s. I don’t care what neighborhood you are in. But I looked in the mirror and resigned myself to stick it out. The guy from last time was there. He seems like he’d be a fun guy, but clearly he’s the snootiest one. I like him despite the fact that he makes it very plain that he doesn’t want to cut my hair. This time was worse than the last time. Today he took an obviously long time with the customer before me. Long pauses to talk, sitting, and then taking payment in slow motion. Bitch. When it was finally my turn he stated that he didn’t remember me from last time, and I’d have to tell him what I wanted. I never said he’d cut my hair before so he at least remembered that much! So I did my best to explain while being totally distracted by a new photo hanging in his station. It was of him. He looked just the same except for the part where in the photo he was in full drag. At first I thought it was cool that he put it up like that, but then I noticed how he was going about clippering my hair. He was slouched over, barely watching what he was doing as he disinterestedly rubbed the clippers over my head like a pencil erasure. The rest of the experience was about the same.
I have decided I hate him. It’s not a bad haircut. Not as good as my usual gal. But not bad. Still better than the other chop shops. Why must a haircut be such torture? I know it’s not challenging. I know I will never be a showcase of your work with my receding hairline. But can’t you at least be nice? It’s already traumatic enough to be wet-headed in public. I should just go back to salon cuts… but it’s so damn pricey.
There’s always self-styling.
Okay, forget I said that last part.
