new hair day

There is something wonderful about getting a new, excellent hair cut. It's not a new style per se, more of a new take on my 'traditional' faux hawk. See stylists, like the rest of us, are human. And Tideliar's Law #3 states Humanity breeds complacency. After a while the usual 30min cut takes only 20, and not long after that it starts to look like it only took 20 minutes. So every 6 to 8 months I change stylist. Sometimes within the same salon.

You'll note I'm refering to stylists here. One of my many excellent qualities is vanity. I am almost as vain as I am humble. That's pretty fucking vain.

So today I went to a new stylist at my favourite salon. I've not been there since November due to trying out other salons, but the high turn over of decent staff (a purely visual judgement) forced me to return to my old stomping ground. And lo and behold, going in blind with nothing by expectations and ego to sustain my hopes, but what am I confronted with but a strikingly attractive young woman, with the requisite piercings and tattooes. If she was a little older I would be harboring more sinful thoughts. For me pederasty starts at around 25 or so. Sad but true... young girls reek of inexperience and misplaced expectation and I need to be feeling evil to take advantage of that.

Anyway. She proceeded to work wonders with the Boris Johnsonesque mop on top of my head. And give me rather sin-inducing goosebumps whilst doing so.

So here I sit, live blogging with a pint of Dos Equis (feliz cinqo de mayo), beautiful new hair and an urge to get thoroughly sinful...