Champion of the Semicolon

I pity any hairdresser that gets me as a customer. Today, it was a poor lady named Robin who moved to Alaska from Florida eight months ago. At the urging of my dad, I stopped talking about getting a haircut and actually did it. Usually, this process takes a few weeks -- I need those weeks, too. I learned that today. First, I step into the hair joint and my hairstylist/dresser/cutter/designer/whateverer starts to crow about my loads and loads of thick hair. "People spend so much money to get hair like this!" After I get this latest incident straightened out, I'm going to grow that bitch out and donate to one of those wig groups. But I digress. I'm not very good at articulating what I want in a hairstyle, and people tend to interpret that as conservtism or reticence. Today, I decided I wanted something drastic, and I just got something bizarre. So I went back and asked her to taper because it was a little too Uma Thurman in "Pulp Fiction" crossed with Annie Lennox at any point (except for the total buzz-cut thing). If that means anything to anyone. Long hair story short, it's tolerable now, but she told me to come back for some trimmage in a week or two. For those of you who know her, I was going for something along the lines of Savannah's hair (from second floor) -- it didn't quite work out.

What a way to break the silence, eh? Bitching about my HAIR OH MY GOD etc. As far as general life updates go, I'm okay. The job is good, the family things are as good as they'll get, and so on.

Does anyone know if a Daria DVD set is coming out anytime? And subsequently hitting Blockbuster's shelves? It won't be long before I run out of Cowboy Bebop...