Chopped

I can live a pretty frugal life if I have to, but a haircut... that's a problem I'm willing to throw money at.

I am addicted to haircuts. It's a quick-fix, feel-good solution to most of my problems. Depressed? Haircut! Bored? Haircut! Sexually frustrated? Haircut! I am forever in search of that one hairdresser that will finally find the style that will absolutely define ME. As in who I am and what I am destined to become. A haircut that will open the skies and let the sun shine down on my head. Ah yes, that final destination haircut!

I was in need of some destination yesterday so off I went. Cut by the cutest girlie I ever did see, just around the corner from where I live. (Let it be known that I only decided to get my hair cut there after extensive research, this was not an easy decision.) When I got back to the Hostel the Irish declared that it was a good cut indeed and gave it a thumbs up. And so my need for good hair has been satisfied once more!

The three of them left this morning, off to the happy Land of Las Vegas, where the drinks are free and the gambling not. They left "Twilight" and "New Moon" by Stephanie Meyer on my bed for me to read. It was unfathomable that I hadn't and didn't care who Robert Pattinson was.