Hairdressers, Priests, and Bartenders...Oh My...

My yellow brick road ends in the communion of split ends and deep conditioner. Bar stools and confessional benches do not compare in luxury or psychiatric benefit to the hydraulic bliss of a salon chair...

After logging 10-ish hours at the hands of a follicular genius...



Discussing everyone from Oscar Wilde to Paris Hilton...



Asking the all-important, ego-stroking, questions:

"Why does everyone suck except for us?"

&

"What's wrong with living in a world comprised of unicorns and Luis Vuitton?"

Musing about how happy/lucky/blessed we are for finding careers that have, by choice, become our bliss/purpose/priority...



Paul has become my new leading man:


















As far as patterns go, wearing my heart-on-my-sleeve for my hair stylist is far better than pattern balding...

Plus...

No one is drunk or going to Hell...