Got my hair did

Whew, finally. Maybe I should go to the salon more often -- my hair wouldn't be quite so wild-child and it's always entertaining. Like last time, when this little blondie, who's cute as a bug but not quite as bright was trying to convince us all that a radish is a baby turnip, and we were all trying to convince her that she's an idiot. It didn't take.
Last night, every time one stylist or another left or went into the back room, they were getting ripped apart. Everybody was piling on, except my girl, Red, who's so sweet and meek and wouldn't say anything mean even if you threatened to torture her for the info. Or so I thought. So I decided to dig a little. Started an oh-so-casual conversation with her about their salon owner, a big bitch on wheels. She just does not treat her people right -- your classic hated boss with everybody under her thumb, and always picking on poor little Red, especially. I commiserated. I empathized. I questioned gently. Lo and behold, it didn't take much -- Red was ready to spill. With the cutest sly smile on her face, she allowed as how awhile back she'd "accidentally" cut a huge hank out of the back of the owner's hair while she was giving her a quick haircut (think that girl cutting a nice horsetail out of Caroline's hair in Sixteen Candles). The owner was hopping mad -- but what could she do? Not a damned thing. Her hair was wrecked for months! What fitting revenge, huh? We could not stop giggling for at least half an hour.

Oh, yeah, my hair looks rockin'. Way to go, Red.