Bad hair day

So to add insult to injury, I had a very bad day today. And I was feeling all of these all at once that made me so intensely mad at myself:

As you can see from the title of this entry, I had a bad hair day. I would’ve written an eloquent short story like I’ve always did a day before my English exam to get my writing engines running, but today calls for a totally different measure since I don’t have the mood to do it.

So first things first, PD has been called off and long story short, while I was chatting away with a CSO friend of mine after exams, the rest of my classmates suddenly decided on going to Genting next Monday itself. Not sure if it’s even confirmed so I’ll just see how it goes tomorrow.

Anyway earlier in the morning Andy arrived at my house quite early since he was usually late. Was practically rushing in my bathroom and somehow another, while I was putting my water bottle in my briefcase-like F1 Official Programme bag, the bottle must have not been closed tightly because when we reached our destination, my entire bag was practically DROWNING with clear water.

T____T

Not only did my pencil box, calculator, and entire notes swim in mini-puddles, the water leaked out from the derriere of my bag, soaking neatly Andy’s back seat.

WTF. GOT SO BAD LUCK OR NOT.

We’re just fearing any occurences of stains on it. :( People have been giving conflicting answers.

So after finishing a mediocre Microeconomics exam, we left to Pyramid to have lunch at Nando’s for RM15. Huhu. Then went to Snips Taipan to cut hair.

So was feeling all happy to get a haircut since my last haircut was almost 7 weeks ago or so. I was sitting down next to Andy, wondering why nobody attended to me even though this Senior dude was already working on his hair.

I was asked by Andy if I’m sure I wanted a Senior haircut, and I said yes since I thought in every salon the haircutting hierarchy is:

Student -> Junior -> Senior -> Professional

Okay what. Why not.

So I dozed off on the chair next to Andy after feeling completely bored, not wanting to read Chinese magazines with pictures of men and women wearing next to nothing and other assortment of skimpy attire. There was even one Chinese magazine which the same Senior dude dumped to me to read, called “Men’s Beauty” wtfwtfwtf.

Anyhow I asked them first if I could cut my hair without washing it since the salons I go to previously allow this. They told me, “No price difference whether you wash hair or not, might as well wash”. All these in Cantonese, of course.

So okay lor, wash hair lor. This tomboy-ish girl was massaging my head and it felt gooood. Nothing else happened, ‘course.

SO when I’ve finally grew a tree branch out of my nose, it was finally my turn. Senior dude, who was almost effiminate in mannerisms and speech, gave me a long pep talk after I struggled to get words that translate to, “Recommend me a style please?” in Canto out of my mouth.

Wah I can’t cut short hair lah if not not nice. Must leave long long. Must tin (electrify?) my hair so that it becomes fluffy, large and expanding, and he showed me this book which contains a collection of Japanese male hairstyles and to my horror, he showed me one with hair that resembled like this:

I AM NOT KIDDING YOU. HURLEY OF LOST WTF. Except that the hair he showed me wasn’t curly - more like wild and unruly - and slightly tamer.

So he yakked upon the virtues of leaving hair long for my rather elongated face, scrutinising every bit while obviously noticing how meat-less my face seems. And he made it sound as if I’ll look completely fugly, grotesquely disgusting if I cut my hair short as it will focus on my less-than-beautiful facial features and talked to me into agreeing to just trim my hair. Because naturally, no one wants to look fugly.

This is the part where I get pissed at myself, much later on. Completely pissed that I could get pushed around to accept something because by nature I am like fucking that. I’m mild, genuinely hate conflicts, and I just couldn’t assert my fucking self and in the end, it’s a lose-lose thing.

Actually if I could be permitted to make a small excuse, I’m only like 1.2% fluent in Cantonese and whatever the Senior dude was saying in his hairstyling terminology made 1.2% sense. So yeah I know this sounds lame but I don’t know how to say “I’m not comfortable with long hair” in Cantonese.

Now why don’t I just converse in English, n’est ce pas wtf? I just thought it’d be highly rude to reply in another language when someone is talking to me in a particular one like Chinese. You know? Scared some language-ist fuck like this taxi uncle Esther encountered months ago come to haunt and segregrate me just because I speak a totally different language.

SO ANYWAY OUT OF TOPIC WTF.

So the dude cut my hair in what took like 20 minutes for the hair trim, and halfway into it Andy answered a phone call from Shawn (which I ended his call seconds earlier as I was in the middle of an important hair trim), and to my utmost horror fucking horror, Andy said something like, “You want to cut hair ah? Here Junior RM20 and Senior RM40 wor”.

I swore my lungs collapsed, my heart ruptured, and my entire body broke out in cold sweat. Turns out that the highest ranking hairstylist for Snips happens to be called a Senior, and the only other lower ranking one is a Junior.

TNS AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

WTFWTFWTFWTFWTF.

RM40 for a hair cut trim! GOT ANY DIFFERENCE OR NOT.

If my head were to have five strands of hair:

GOT DIFFERENCE OR NOT I ASK YOU. DIUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU.

You wouldn’t be able to understand my rage towards being pushed over like this, especially since I’m directing it at myself. In fact, I was so completely incensed that even when we went to Shawn’s house after the haircut I was spewing tons of insensitive stuffs I wouldn’t have done normally. Because normally I don’t get mad that easily.

To add even more salt and pepper to my already bleeding wound, we were given a 15% student discount for our RM40 senior haircut and like ZOMG how they counted it up was this:

34
+ 5
= RM39

THE FUCK. FIVE COME FROM WHERE!?? LUBANG HIDUNG KAH (wanted to say where your najis comes out from but I not so bad lah). Andy later told me the RM5 was from shampoo. SOME MORE TELL ME EARLIER WASH HAIR NO DIFFERENCE??

Ah fuck it lah it’s only RM40 right.

If only I were a bit more assertive. If only I spoke fucking English so I could understand fully my situation and not care about people unable to speak it and not result in a total communication error that results in me losing financially.

Yeah, so what if the previous time I went to Snips my haircut was only RM20? So what if I was persuaded then that I should leave my hair long so they could change my hairstyle if I go there another time?

I seriously look like as if they did nothing to my hair at all. Nada. Zilch. 0. Roti kosong satu. I think my hair looks retarded. Even with the styling with mud and whatnot the Senior dude did to me, why not give me air longkang lah instead pissed laaa.

I don’t mind if the RM40 gives me some completely different hairstyle, even if it looks fugly on me, IF THEY ACTUALLY DID SOMETHING TO MY HAIR.

T_____T

So after chit-chatting in a not-so-good mood in Shawn’s house, we played mahjong and that cheered me up a little. :) Then I went back and blasted my newly bought The Corrs’ Unplugged CD two weeks ago but didn’t bothered to listen. Their acoustic album was released like almost a decade ago and.. hearing a particular song called At Your Side vibrating throughout my room lifted my mood up considerably.

I think I had my lesson learnt. Speak English assertively to hairstylists.