We got ourselves a ballgame.

Lynda thinks I need a haircut. Normally, I would say "This clingy bitch ain't gonna change me!" and I would kick her to the curb faster than her Chinese parents would have gotten rid of her for being born the wrong gender. That is if she is Chinese. I am not sure if she is. Pergo and I had chinese (I am not sure if that should be capitalized... Bell Hooks would say know, but she is a woman with a small brain, it's sciene) food from the place around the corner. It was pretty good. Lotta food. What was I talking about? Oh right, hair.

Anyway, she was giving me shit about my hair, and she was anyone else, I would have flipped out, but she is a special lady; my special lady, so we had a meaningful discussion instead, like mature couples. She made some really good points, like if I don't get my hair cut she is gonna stop shaving.

I'm calling her bluff.