Haha, guy who was macking on me at Starbucks. Thank you for telling me that my freckles are hot, that I look like a cool, hip girl and all about your three guitars, the 6 years you lived in Manhattan,how you spent the last month in the recording studio and that your band is about to hit it real big. 

     But sorry, even though I share a very similar self-assured and cavalier attitude, it just doesn’t do anything for me. It’s not your fault, just maybe if your hair was a little more shaggy, you had thick glasses and we’re a little more charmingly awkward and hadn’t been like, you know, 25-27 years old, I would’ve had more interested in going to your show Monday night.  Also you dropped the f-bomb like 20 times and I am a lady, thank you very much.

So, the guy who cuts my hair, as pictured above, is pretty freakin awesome. His name is Mark Handy. He’s quiet. Now, not shy, awkward quiet, but content to be silent at most times but when warranted is a fine conversationalist- that kind of quiet. He loves cutting my hair short and dying it crazy colors. He’s just the perfect blend of sarcastic and optimistic. He’s always wanted to go to China. And if he wasn’t in his mid-twenties and in a serious committed relationship and I didn’t just barely know him; we’d totes be married now. Haha j.k, no really.