I got a haircut. It’s the exact same haircut I’ve gotten my entire life, only now I’ve got a lady in Berkeley who does it perfectly every time. I’ve been going to her for three years . . . I found her because I was heading up to Portland to finally meet The Pink-Haired Girl, and I wanted to look like a guy who actually paid for a haircut. I wanted to impress her, is what I’m saying.

See, I’d been cutting my own hair up until that point for like five years and it was not great. I never mastered layering and the whole process is so boring and time-consuming that I’d get lazy midway through and just wing it. It looked FINE but it weren’t no masterpiece.

Now I sit down in the chair and Lisa Anne just gives me The Ryan. I don’t even have to tell her!

Anyway: Lisa Anne rules. She always tells me about her acid trips and relationship woes and vegan bodybuilding techniques and gut flora maintenance. I love it.

OK good-night~ ☆彡

(P.S. I took this picture for A Girl, saying that I had just shaved my beard off for her, and I think she kind of believed me. I of course cannot grow a beard, and even if I could it would look weird and gross (lol).)