RANT: Another Fucking Bad Hair Day

I should be leaving for an appointment right this very second, but I'm SO mad! I HATE my hair.

There is nothing worse (esteem-wise) than bad hair days. Except maybe bloating days, but We Don't Talk Of Such Things.

I splurged. I came into a few bucks and went to my fancy-pants expensive hair guy, paid him a ridiculous $65 about 3-4 weeks ago now, and got the cut I have. Which I hate. And in the process? Had to put up with the dresser being, essentially, a stereotypical "pissy queen."

My best friend is GayBoy. I love him to death. Gay? Not an issue. But standing there and being a negative, pissy bitch of a man while getting paid more per hour than I've ever gotten is pretty much a fucking affront to anyone. Worth it, MAYBE, for a good haircut.

Which this is not. Unusual for my fancy-pants coif-man, but there it is: It SUCKS.

And because he spent the whole fucking hour whining at me about life and people and traumas, I won't be going back.

Know what? Here's a fuckin' memo: Shrinks get $120 an hour, or more, to listen to people bitch, piss, and moan. Know why? Because they fucking DESERVE it. Whiners suck! Issues suck! Who wants to hear them? Not many people. That's what best friends and lovers are for. Not fucking hair-dressers!

Now I'm gonna make myself even later by dunking my head under the tap and hoping it dries in better positions when I put my motorcycle helmet on. Fucking people. $65 for a whine-at-me session and a bad haircut.

When I say I want to get fucked, that's not exactly what I have in mind. GRR!

Oh, and take a look below -- I've got merchandise now!

(Maybe you can buy some shit and I'll use the profits for a haircut from a non-cunt who'll pay some attention to the strands of hair on my head, huh?)