saturday at arrojo

For those of you who follow me on instagram, this is old news. However, I am a realist and know that not all of you do. Although secretly I wish you did. O.k., maybe not secretly.

I met up with my homegirl, Amy, on a lovely Saturday morning (two weeks ago, to be exact). Except it wasn’t that lovely. I woke up late, the subway was all screwed up and some assclown locked me in a turn-style with him because “that’s what you get for cutting people off”. Needless to say, I did not respond politely to that douchewad. To be honest, I wanted to punch him in the face but as he was a rather large African-American man, I let logic get the best of me. That was not a fight I cared to start. Well, he started the verbal one and I ended it. The fact that he shouted “bitch” as I walked away is inconsequential.

When I finally got to Arrojo, my spirits were lifted. The space = amazeballs. The staff = all freaking nice as crap. Yes, nice as crap. Write that down. It’s like nice, times a million. Amy = freaking pretty with awesome hair. I knew the day could only get better.

Rachel was petrified at my mop, yes, mop of hair. She was thinking “ugh, really with all this one layer hair-do? this girl looks like a hippie and not in a good bohemian way”. She later said that she was terrified I was going to be one of those girls who was totally attached to the one-layer do. For serious, I told her she could do whatever she wanted. And no, I don’t usually go 9 months between trims. That’s…just…gross.

So she washed it up. Which was amazing because if you know me you know I am…ahem…lazy?