So the time has come for a Haircut. Now that I basically have placed myself in a self imposed shop exile (apart from this month - it's the sales. I have been a granny and bought things to 'put away' for when I need them. Eugh) I enjoy a Haircut. The price of it makes Monsieur B say, "cunting haircut", a lot but I tend to ignore him. Mainly because I like having my hair cut. And what he doesn't know is that the place where I go fills you up with so much wine you basically drink the price of it in wine. Well. I do. But here is the problem: this Haircut is scheduled for 11am. What's the done thing here? Personally I don't have a problem with getting on it early. Have I mentioned the Saturday Club? I fear that they may judge me adversely though. I'm inclined to fuck it and just drink ridiculous amounts anyway and hope that they see me as fun loving as opposed to an alcoholic.
Speaking of alcoholic. The last week and a half of work has made me see why so many in my profession are on the sauce. And I am not joking.
I guess you're wondering why Scarlet is up? Firstly, because I am fitter than her. Much. And I like to remind myself of just how hot I look after 5 hours sleep and bleary eyed make up application on the train on the way to work. Also, I'm thinking of stealing her hair. But long. I'm talking silly choppy but long. Okay. I've lost you now. You don't care do you? You're too busy looking at Scarlet. Fickle bastards.