Ch-ch-changes
Have you ever caught yourself giving mini-makeovers to people on the street. Like, She could use some color in her hair, or Homeboy needs to trim his eyebrows and he’d be hot, or Sista needs some wrinkle cream asap? Well, I do it all the time. We do, after all, live in the Age of the Makeover. Whether it’s your face, your body, or your house, tips abound on the television as how to improve all.
One such show that’s piqued my interest is “Can’t Get A Date” if only because it so painfully applies to me…. Well, I wouldn’t say I can’t get a date, it’s that I don’t even try thanks to our good, dear friends Insecurity and Fear O’Rejection (good gals…).
There’s this kind of cute, flip guy who’s one of the stylists where I gets my hairs cut. He cut my hair once when my regular guy was out, and didn’t do a very good job, but he’s tres adorable, and he laughed at my jokes. I think I caught him eyeing me up in one of the mirrors once, too.
I was thinking of asking him out. Nothing fancy schmancy, just a fun trot through North Beach or something low key and fun like that. Of course, I’d have to have several tequila slammers in me before popping the question, but the thought occurred to me last night.
Why not? Plus I really need to get my hair cut, you know?
