A crimp(er) in my plans

I got snowed in with a hot hairdresser...and lived to tell the tale.

Well, to be fair, it wasn't the snow so much as it was the freezing rain and the impenetrable fog which kept me at Molly's house. Plus, you know, no hardship there - sexy girl with fresh groceries and beer? Yeah...snow me in, baby, snow me in.

She was drinking Sparks again, and you know what that means: my hair becomes her playground. I'm a freak for using glosser and a straightening iron on my tangled mass (I mean on my head, you sick fuckers), and Molly is always urging me to make my hair BIGGER. So she gave me a beer, sat me down on the floor in front of her, and crimped like there was no tomorrow.







I really like having my hair fixed, but I'm always worried that someone, someday, is going to clue her in to the fact that she's essentially putting lipstick on a pig. But until she realizes that, I'm going to enjoy the hell out of it and bring you all photographic evidence of what happens at adult slumber parties. Well, um...up to a point, of course. You do not get to see the pillow fights; I'm saving that for the pay-per-view site.


Of course, there's always the danger of all that hairspray going straight to my brain, and I'm afraid that's exactly what happened Friday night.



It's not that the dementia hadn't set in years ago, but now it is undeniable. All I need now is a pastel straight jacket that goes with the sparkly hair clip.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go practice for the next pillow fight.