I feel like a bald man.

I cut off all my hair again.  It seems I always go in this cycle.  I just get so fucking bored and then chop chop chop my hair's gone.  While, true to form, I am not sure if I actually like my hair cut, I have to say that the woman who cut my hair was hilarious.  Let me break it down...

Renee, Stephanie, and I walk into one of those Supercuts places and see three hairstylists.  I knew, immediately, that I would end up with the black woman.  (Stick to your own kind, perhaps?)  We had a little bit of a wait, so we meandered over to Wal-mart.  I bought a card, and we all got some yummy iced coffee.  (Sidebar:  I'm totally into coffee now.  I blame Amber.  I don't know if I've just grown accustomed to its taste [Yeah, I'm now thinking about My Fair Lady...] or my addictive personality is truly that insane.  Anyway...)  When we returned, Stephanie and Renee went first.

So I go up and I immediately want to die because I do get the black woman with the vaguely Caribbean accent.  While I'm showing her pictures of possible styles, she's going like "Nah, do you really like that one?"  HAHA.  And then she validates what I have said my whole life and why I cannot go to a barber:  "Oh, child, you have the finest baby hair in the world.  You cannot be buzzed!  You'll be showing too much scalp, it'll be like camouflage."  Yes.  If you have never touch my hair, I truly have the finest hair in the world.  Next she asks me which one of my parents have fine hair "Your mommy or your daddy?"  I explain that both of my parents have fine hair and she about dies.  "Oh, you were just plain ol' stuck then."  I inform her about my one sister, Amber, who has thick hair and cuts it all off, etc. etc.  "Oh!  Life is too funny, too too funny."  

Basically we had a blast.  I felt like I was at the Beauty Shop of Queen Latifa infamy.  Wouldn't that be nice?  Someone making you laugh and consoling you?  While I love my typical hairstylist (I sound as if I pay more than $18 on my hair...), she and I typically don't talk much.  We're both pretty content in the quiet.  Apparently, though, I had this longing to be a chatty mothafucka.  Because this woman swoops in and suddenly I feel like telling her my life story.

In conclusion, I gave her a three-dollar tip.  Because I don't know how to tip a bitch to save my life (I overpaid at a strip club) and I'm also kinda a cheap bastard.