Monday, December 12, 2005


Took a break from trailing the ever so logically numbered streets in search of a surgeon this afternoon to go to the hairdressers for the yearly straightening saga.
It was a mere 50 dollars cheaper to have hair straightened here rather than get on a plane and do said task in London, but ever so slightly more convenient.

Ezequiel was as Latino as he sounds. He was also a body-builder from Panama. For a five hour hair process this meant three pit-stops for protein drinks, because otherwise his muscles would dissolve or something. I spent a fair amount of the afternoon shrieking because the whole process was progressing very differently to the British version ie. chemicals being splattered about liberally and randomly, and whole hairdressers experiencing major power cut at crucial hair drying time. All of my comparative Continent panic went STRAIGHT over Ezequiel's head, as his English language only amounted to the buying of shoes (five pairs this week apparently - note well Bloominjools) and jeans (thirteen pairs this week. What? The man is clearly earning too much AND insane), and his parting words to me 'do not sleep on head for four eight hours'.

Despite all of this trauma, hair appears to be extraordinarily straight, although the TH responded in the appropriate manner for his sex this evening with 'but your hair was straight anyway?'

I, meanwhile, need to work out how to sleep vertically for the next 'four eight hours' - a skill I believe has only been successfully mastered to date by sperm whales and astronauts.


Blogger Bloominjools said...

Blimey - 5 pairs in a week. I'm such a lightweight!

5:37 AM, December 18, 2005  

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