Making Empty Statements

Driving around today, I ended up behind a jeep of some sort with a sticker on the rear window that said, "Gas sucks. Ride a bike."

Irony anyone?

After getting my hair done at RIAH, the salon (which I will explain momentarily), I putzed around, went to Best Buy with the faint hopes of finding Shadow of the Colossus among the vintage PS2 Greatest Hits. My search proved fruitless, so I drove down to the library and picked up a few CDs, two Depeche Mode and one Elvis Costello. The girl checking out my CDs said Playing the Angel was good. I said "okay".

The pretty waves Joanna put in my hair with the curling iron have gotten sort of limp. I forgot to ask her if brushing my hair after its been curled is a bad idea. And mention that "loose waves" for me means flatness lifelessness. She used a light hairspray. I'm thinking next time she should use cement.

RIAH is, as it advertises, an experience -- not just a salon. This is true. I've been there several times now in the last few years, and it's a nice place. They serve you beverages if you like (water or a soft drink, with ice) or even snacks. The first thing you get is a hair washing, and then, one of the best parts of the "experience", the aroma therapeutic scalp massage. The room where your hair is washed is dimly lit, with little decorative fountains that provide a calming trickling sound. There is soft music, and tapestries on the walls. After they wash your hair, you get to choose one out of three different aromatherapy scents, which the stylist will then rub into your hair while they massage your poor aching head, neck, and shoulders. I'd hold up a bank to get one of those everyday.

Anyway, despite walking out of RIAH feeling like $250,000, this feeling didn't last. My hair, which I believe has a life of its own, is not interested in looking decent for more than twenty minutes. I wonder if maybe my face is the problem. I could have a movie star hairstyle but my face just doesn't look right with anything. It's a face best concealed by a paper bag with cut out eye holes.

Self loathing aside, there's not much I can do about my stubborn follicles. I wonder if Nick Arrojo himself would have any luck taming "the beast".


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