How Josh Stonewater earned a 2nd chance...
Man, a new hair-did sure makes you feel like an improved woman.
After being thoroughly dissatisfied with my cut and color only five weeks ago, I made another appointment to sit in the chair yesterday. The last time I went to visit Josh Stonewater at Stonewater Salon (formerly Josh Malia of Malia Salon) was on March 7, 2006, during the delivery of who we now know as Norah Bridget Holzmacher. I could have been very squirmy that day, waiting for phone calls from the proud parents. Josh could have been very anxious, waiting to learn if the man who he only knows as Tripod Rod offsprung a baby boy, complete with equipment proportional to that of his 25-year old father's. Either way, the cut was jagged, and the color was blah. It was time to suck it up and go back sooner than later.
I sat in a chair for literally four hours yesterday, cause Lord knows I didn't have anything else to do. I didn't do a lot of talking so good old Josh could focus on his work. I specifically described what I wanted. I asked questions. I read an entire Jane magazine and found out that nautical bathing suits are perky and sweet this season, Dirty Pretty Thing might be my next book to buy, and baby wipes are the best way to clean up after sex in public.
Meanwhile, a transformation was taking place. After I was foiled, washed, deep-conditioned, detangled, snipped, razored, and dried, I became a shorter-haired, blonder version of myself.
The whole "more fun" thing should begin minute. I'm waiting. Any minute now...for that fun. Any minute...
After being thoroughly dissatisfied with my cut and color only five weeks ago, I made another appointment to sit in the chair yesterday. The last time I went to visit Josh Stonewater at Stonewater Salon (formerly Josh Malia of Malia Salon) was on March 7, 2006, during the delivery of who we now know as Norah Bridget Holzmacher. I could have been very squirmy that day, waiting for phone calls from the proud parents. Josh could have been very anxious, waiting to learn if the man who he only knows as Tripod Rod offsprung a baby boy, complete with equipment proportional to that of his 25-year old father's. Either way, the cut was jagged, and the color was blah. It was time to suck it up and go back sooner than later.
I sat in a chair for literally four hours yesterday, cause Lord knows I didn't have anything else to do. I didn't do a lot of talking so good old Josh could focus on his work. I specifically described what I wanted. I asked questions. I read an entire Jane magazine and found out that nautical bathing suits are perky and sweet this season, Dirty Pretty Thing might be my next book to buy, and baby wipes are the best way to clean up after sex in public.
Meanwhile, a transformation was taking place. After I was foiled, washed, deep-conditioned, detangled, snipped, razored, and dried, I became a shorter-haired, blonder version of myself.
The whole "more fun" thing should begin minute. I'm waiting. Any minute now...for that fun. Any minute...
posted by quank at 4:54 PM
1 Comments:
I use Bounty "the quicker picker upper" for absorbancy purposes, followed with a dryer sheet rub down to mask the smell of taint...
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