Who hates having haircuts, say AI.

AI!

It’s been a month since my last confession haircut, and usually around this time there are vital signs that indicate the need for a trimming:

1. There is a prominent border that separates the long strands of hair on the top of my head and the side strands— most evident during my morning look


2. I start to do the following when I’m bored:
   • Twirl my sideburns
   
   
   • Play and go through my hair

Sometimes it gets really bad and I naturally place my side strands of hair behind my ears. I have vowed never to let this happen.

Being that I really enjoyed my sister’s new fobby haircut, I thought I’d steal the hairstylist’s business card form her. So there I went, feeling confident that I’d get a nice fobby, yet equally important, conservative haircut. There was quite a lot of people at that place— which I suppose was expected given it was a Saturday afternoon. Then I looked at the sign, and apparently the whole on OMNI News: Cantonese Edition’s news team gets their hair done here.

The anchors aren’t exactly people from L’Oreal commericials, but still. At least they have some hairstyling cred.

Shampoo: Rub it baby, rub it
Anyways, it was time for my shampoo; the best part of everything haircut adventure. But to my dismay, a twentysomething fobby boy was the only one in sight who could wash my hair. Through my experiences, they usually do not have a good head-rubbing track record, and he was no exception. He pretty much didn’t give a shit, and used his pussy hands and just lathered as if my hair is going to bite off his fingers.

Anyway, suffice to say, he totally didn’t give me a very “organic experience.” Oh man, it just feels so good to have someone rub my head— vigourously and rhythmically.

Must… get… mind… out… of gutter

Personally, I enjoy the hands of a trendy see-lai digging into my scalp, my temples, and every other part of my hair region. Seriously, they totally know how to rub a man’s scalp. There were on many occaisions where I’m totally moaning in my head (just like Herbal Essences) just because it felt so damn good.

Yeah, the shampoo guy was pretty crazy— aside from the pussy fingers. I was actually kinda shocked and freaked out. Not only did he manage to get water rolling down my back (which is intersting given that I’m in a horizontal position), he almost gave me a whiplash on the sink, as he almost let go of my head after lifting it up to get the back portion of my head.

Ah!

Watch out: Snip snip
Anyways, the haircut portion was no good too. I swear, I’ve always wondered, how does one effectively communicate to the stylist of exactly how your hair to be cut? In the beginning, I was thinking that I’m just lousy at communicating, but now that I’m totally anal and have extensive conversations with the stylist before s/he brings the knife scissors, I’m really starting to get quite irritated.

Well, my hair is not bad— aside from the fact that it’s apparently according to Bow and Leo, “prominently shifted”— and there’s nothing that a little product can’t fix— but my hair totally didn’t look like what I had in mind— it never does.

Well, at the same time, trying to look like Steven (right) from BOYZ is quite ambitious I suppose. Tee hee.

Next time, I’m totally going to print out this picture of Steven and show it to them. Arrrgh.