03.26.02 :: 8:13 pm

The boy who blowdried my hair at the salon (accent on the first syllable, please) was so obviously straight, it hurt.

Literally.

No light touch, this one. He was yanking and holding the blowdryer too close to my scalp, and he was digging in his fingers too violently and I was all ow, ow, ow, please for the love of all that is holy on this earth! And he said he was sorry and added, "It's been one of those days."

And I forgave him because my hair has never looked so good.

Now I need a cigarette and a stiff drink to counter the effects of reading instructions on "How to Get to Ground Zero" on a dry-erase board at the subway station - don't even get me started on that, I mean seriously - and perhaps some Andy Richter Saves the Universe couldn't hurt while I'm at it.

Oh, wait. My Boy bought porn.

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