I walked into a salon with a picture of Stevie Knicks circa mid-70s and said, “please give me this exact cut.” 45 grueling minutes later, I walked out of the salon looking more like the bitch from that god awful band The Ting Tings. If this wasn’t completely trivial, I would post this on fml.com Either way, my sense of self is shot…It’s times like these, when I hate myself even more than usual because I realize that my self-esteem is apparently contingent upon whether or not I like my haircut. I think it’s ultimately best I never have children, god forbid I have an even more effort consuming vanity project other than my hair… This is the part where I kill myself. Happy Memorial Day.