Had a girls' day out hair day. Since my stepma can't drive yet [three more weeks -- knee replacement] I get to take her places. And one place she goes is to a woman at a Hair Cuttery in the next town. She has been going to the same woman for more than a decade no matter where this woman works. At a fancy place. At a faraway place. Or at a discount place. So she has paid a lot and a little for the same hairdo, depending on where her stylist, a tiny little Bolivian lady with twinkle in her eyes, was located.
The Hair Cuttery is so reasonable that my kind and caring stepmother treated me for driving her around all day. Mostly I drove her out to breakfast, shopping for food, and for a couple of hours of hair fixing.
I don't know why, but the Hair Cuttery is just $20 for a wash, cut, and style. Most places in the burbs cost around $40 to $50. So we got a two-fer. And my hair looks as good as it did when a fancy former Londoner, featured in ELLE magazine, who did hairdos for the girls in James Bond movies used to do mine.
Too bad this 'do won't last until Tuesday. I am doing the Chicago version of the red carpet for Inglourious Basterds. One of those deals where my hair has to look like I didn't just wake up. I have to wear something besides my un-ironed summer linens, a sports bra, and flipflops.
Got any questions for the director of the movie? You know who I mean. [If I write his name his people will Google him and find me and wonder who I am and why I'm writing about him in my blog. And they may try to track me down or something. So let's keep this on the QT. Oh, s**t, that's his initials.]