Sunday, April 26, 2009

Who Needs to Eat When You Have French Hair?

I pretty much have the worst hangover one can have without dying.

That said, yesterday the hairdresser told me my hair was French. I guess he can tell by the texture of my hair, in the same way someone can guess your nationality by your accent or your manners or the smell of your armpit. I don't know. Anyway, my hair is French and so that explains why I really really like berets, even when they aren't in style or when they are notorious because that woman who gave the president a blowjob was photographed in one. My mother would be kind of jealous because I'm sure she'd want French hair but she has Italian hair and there's nothing she can do about it. You can't change your hair's roots. I'm pretty sure of that one. So French it is.

He told me about my Parisian locks as he dried my hair out completely and utterly straight. ooh la la.

That goes to show you that if you wish for something hard and long enough it will come true, but it could take a while so make sure you have some snacks and a comfortable chair. I have wanted straight hair since 1967.

I wanted go-go boots then too, and I sort of got that wish too, except they weren't really mine. Still, my sister's boots fit me just fine because to this day her feet are smaller than mine despite the fact that she is 2" taller. Pretty soon though she'll start shrinking and so her feet will probably get bigger and then I can steal her shoes again. I hope she buys some fringe mocs or suede boots and she keeps them clean with that stuff in a spray can they always try to sell you at the store because it could be a while until she shrinks and her feet grow. A few years anyway. A lot can happen to shoes in a few years, especially if you like to camp and go to county fairs and stuff.

Dave sends his best. He can't be with us today as he apparently doesn't have the worst hangover one can have without dying and so he was able to move from the bed before having 3 advil and 4 cups of coffee and not only that - he's having breakfast somewhere.

I'll eat some crumbs off the floor or something. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. Foraging is in my DNA.

Updated: Here's a pic of the beautiful bride and groom, the real reason we came out to Vancouver.... and also? Some of us.