I got my hair cut yesterday. The “men’s salon” was incredibly nice. Upon arrival, the hostess took my coat, hung it on the coat rack, and offered me a complimentary beverage. After five minutes, I was taken back, got my hair cut while making small talk and glancing at flat screen TVs on occasion (but no important games were on so it didn’t matter much). As part of the service, I had my hair shampooed, received a neck/shoulder massage, and got a warm-towel for my face. I loved it. My “beautician” helped me pick out some new hair stuff, too (Fiber Paste — sounds weird, but works well).

I’m rocking the fauxhawk again.

As I was having my payment processed I made small talk to the hostess. She was super cute and distracting and very likely hired for that reason. She mentioned how she’d really been wanting to see Juno. I mentioned how I’d been wanting to see it, but hadn’t found anybody to go with yet.

So I got her name, said “nice to meet you,” and left.

It took me thirty minutes to realize I should have asked her to the movie. I’m a moron! But at least a fabulous-looking moron.