A couple of sketches from my day at the beach.



Today I face a challenge that is both exciting but also a little frightening at the same time. I have a date with a salon, a salon unfamiliar with me and I unfamiliar with it. Exciting because I love a good hair cut like any other girl; scary because I have had very unpleasant experiences in my past, with stylists who have created a massacre upon my head, leaving me an emotional wreck in front of the mirror. I am very particular about who does my hair, for many years I refused to even try new stylists – though this weekend I made this decision based mainly on my laziness to head across town to my current hair-man and to try someone local, someone right down the street. I also want to try and save a few bucks; I do frequent one of the most expensive salons in town. I am only getting this mop cut – I figure he can't fuck it up TOO bad, I like my hair messy anyways, plus the sign out front is pretty neat. However, color will have to wait, that I am very, very anal about and I have to get a sense of what this salon is like before I will even let them touch my head with bleach and dye.