ok maybe i'm a metrosexual after all

i thought i would just get this out of the way now--there won't be any more "i was having a cocktail in the lobby of the standard reading vice magazine laughing out loud like an idiot while waiting for my haircut" posts.

it's not what you're thinking, though. the 40+ minuite drive to get my hair cut didn't finally get to me. i have not finally given up on the 323. i am not growing my hair out. i'm not boycotting vice because i was offended by "the vice guide to shit" (which of course was brilliant, duh).

i was getting my hair cut at rudy's sometime after thanksgiving (judging by my bloated by carbs visage in the mirror) and . sarah (the girl that cuts my hair) says something to the effect of: "this is the last time i'm cutting your hair hair here." i began to sweat. i mean, what the hell? i didn't really realize until she started cutting my hair that it helps to have someone understand the fucked up way my hair grows for me to get a decent cut. ok, well i'm also a cheap bastard and I don't really want to pay for a real haircut, so rudy's was great, $19. I mean, fuck, what was i going to have to do, audition a bunch of other cutters til i found one i trusted again?

it was here that i had a mini-revelation--i am taking this way too hard. am i that vain? it's just a haircut, after all, right?

"wait a minute, why? where are you going?"
"i'm opening up my own place in venice. isn't that closer to where you live?"
"well, yes."

whew. now if they only served cocktails and carried vice.