Splitting hairs

Yup, got my hairs cut today at the ultra-trendy place that I can finally go to now that my previously local hipster friend left town (does "previous" apply to "local" or "friend" or "hipster"? You make the call) (kidding). Everyone decked out in their super trendy jeans, tatt's galore, and attitude in plentitude. And I was getting my hair cut by this great woman that could completely kick my ass in two seconds. She terrified and fascinated me...mostly terror, though. But then, the worst possible thing happened. I got caught red handed. Damnit.
Okay, so I went there once before...my hair was cut by this little young thing that had just started there. I don't know if she was nervous or crazy...at the time I leaned toward crazy. Harsh, I know and am sorry. She was, unfortunately, there tonight...and remembered me. Ouch. I feel dirty, I need a shower. But I felt like the conversation with her was painful and akward and odd...y'know, like every other interaction I have with women...and the haircut wasn't really that good either. So, am I supposed to exclusively go to her from now on? Even though I wasn't completely happy with my cut? Well, no, I didn't tell her that...that would require balls and a spine...you should know that I have neither if you've read any of these blog posts. I've already burned through three other places because I have these fidelity issues. Damnit.

oh yeah, and the cut today, you ask? Well, it's a good cut....though the conversation was painful and akward....do you see a recurring theme? later.