Last week a hairdresser with a bridge piercing told me I had boring hair. I was sitting on a swivel chair with a gay porn magazine on my lap --- I'd grabbed the first one off the salon waiting area table en route to his station, expecting Euro celebrity trash, and was met with a lot of greased up naked dudes instead -- and watched in the mirror as he turned a long brown lock of mine upwards to inspect the ends. "Its fine," he offered. "Its just very boring." Ignoring this, I asked him to cut off two inches, straight across, all the way around.
Unrelated: if you have interesting haircut ideas for me, I am now accepting them.
I'm on a Mini Pizzas with Zucchini Crusts bender. I saw them on Pinterest and my life has been a downward spiral of marinara sauce and self-doubt ever since. I tell myself they're the healthy version of Bagel Bites, and perhaps they would be if I hadn't eaten them every day for the past 5.
I have, for some reason, decided that NOW is the perfect time to read Telegraph Avenue, which is making me feel three things:
(1) VERY wistful for the East Bay, I could weep for the bulk bin section at Berkeley Bowl,
(2) Pleased that the list of books I like featuring important parrots now contains two titles, and
(3) Just generally into the idea that, for however short a time, Barack Obama is a character in this book. Like, with dialogue. You should read it. And maybe also this.
And finally: black lipstick is surprisingly hard to come by when it isn't Halloween, but I located a tube yesterday at KIKO, a Milan-based makeup retailer with many stores in central Madrid. I have big plans for this lipstick. I really think it can be non-witchy if I try. Stay tuned.