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A bald man wearing a red sweater accosted me outside the unemployment office and asked me who my hairstylist was. My hair at the time, because I'm sure you are wondering, was definitely not styled. It was dirty and in need of cutting and tied up in a messy bun. I frowned at the man and told him I did not have one. He gave me a hurt look and whined, "Why are you getting mad?" I walked away.
In semi-related news, today I got my hair cut.
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"The mind of the thoroughly well informed [person] is a dreadful thing. It is like a bric-a-brac shop, all monsters and dust, and everything priced above its proper value."
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