i chopped off my hair.

why? because my dear mother's most current obsession is Posh Spice's haircut and because she wants to live vicariously through me, BRIBED me with cold, hard cash to cut my hair just like her. Now ordinarily, I wouldn't dream of selling my self-respect for a couple measly benjamins, especially because haircut advice from mom has never brought anything but dreadful results. The little angel on my shoulder was yelping: I make decisions for myself! I do what I want to do, not what my wallet says I should do! But the little guy on my other shoulder was saying, you are gonna be an unpaid intern this summer, you have a record to finish and an engineer to pay, and you don't have anybody to impress anyway. Well, all right, I thought. So I caved, and marched into the salon today with my eyes clamped shut, expecting the worst. I boldly told the lady to do her thing, and when it was over, I opened one eye, took a deep breath.......and went, oh. really? It wasn't even bad after all - in fact, I really like it! So the moral of the story is, even though I did it for money, above that I did it in the name of art, and that in itself retains some nobility, right? Man. I still don't really know how it happened - one minute I was sitting around, living off the fat of the land, and the next I was sitting in a salon chair and POOF! 7 inches of hair was gone.



but i'm pretty happy with it.

side note: I swear I've paid for this record in the most unusual ways. The other day I gave Jim $277 in old gift cards that I found in my wallet and room which spanned various birthdays and christmases (Target, Borders, and Joe's Crab Shack) over who knows how many years. I'm not even mad about it.