Okay, confession time: I get my hair cut at Supercuts. 1. Because I'm cheap 2. Because I can't sit still for longer than 12 minutes and 3. Because, frankly, I don't really give a shit. (At least I'm not in any danger of ever being called "hair-pretty")
Yes, my friends make fun of me and suggest alternate places (I'm not paying $60 to be forced to sit still for 40 minutes and make awkward conversation with a stranger.) You know the saying "Men don't pay prostitutes for sex, they pay them to leave."? I don't pay stylists to cut my hair perfectly, I pay them to let me leave. Preferably after 12 minutes or less.
Anyway, so this morning I went to Supercuts on 6th Avenue and 8th Street because it's been over 3 months and it's definitely "time." When I walked in, there was one stylist working on one customer, and she seemed almost done, so she said "haircut?" and I said "yes" and she said "just a few minutes."
So I sit down and start flipping through an US Weekly on the banquette and try to block out the description of an epic eye infection with which the stylist is regaling her client (an infection which, no lie, turned out to be an STD!). After about 20 minutes, another woman comes in and sits down and says "I'm back!" and the stylist says "I'll be with you in a minute for your coloring." So I ask the stylist "Oh, uh, how long is it going to be?" and she goes "I don't know, an hour, hour and a half." And I was like "WHAT? Why didn't you tell me that when I walked in?" So she gave me attitude and I got up and put my layers back on angrily as fast as I could (it's hard to leave in a huff when it's 15 degrees outside) and said "You've wasted half an hour of my time, I'm never coming back here!"
And then I slipped the US Weekly in my bag and stormed out, slamming the door behind me.
The moral of the story is: 1. Don't get your haircut at SuperCuts and 2. I am an almost 30 year old woman who just stole an Us Weekly from SuperCuts out of spite.
And it wasn't even this week's issue.