duck-shaped pain

I loved the haircut I got last time. All I asked was for the same thing, just shorter, but I got � something else. I tried to get the same woman this time, but instead I was assigned some some lady with puffy, curly hair. Hair that ensures that its wearer will not do a good job cutting my straight, non-puffy hair. Serves me right, I guess, for getting my hair cut at the cheap place.

Anyway, hair grows, and it's not that terrible looking.

The hairdresser attempted to talk to me, as they all do, and I tried to answer as monosyllabically as possible, as I always do. I don't like talking to hairdressers, most of the time, and hope for the day when the robots learn to cut hair. But, anyway, she asked me if I was in school, and I said yes, which lead to the question of what my major was.

"History," I replied.

"Ooh," she said. "I should have studied history when I was in school, because I just looooovvvve DINOSAURS!"

I had an enormous burrito for lunch. It was very tasty, and so large that I had to eat it in shifts, but I amused myself when eating it by pondering the description of one of its ingredients: "authentic Mexican pesto."

Napped. Studied. Napped some more. I'm no fun these days.

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