Is that Pat Benatar?

I knew Monday at work it was time for a hair cut when every time I looked in the bathroom mirror, I wished I hadn't. I would see my reflection and sneer at the shapeless mass of brown hair hanging out of my head. After repeated sneerings and failed attempts with bobbie pins and rubber-bands to improve said mass, I called Bubbles for a 4:30 appointment. "It doesn't matter with who, I just need a haircut." 4:30 with Dawn. When I arrived at the salon a very tall and thin male hairdresser with lightening bolts bleached in either side of his head asked Honey if he could help her. "Oh me?!" Yeah apparently I'm Honey. He said he would let Dawn know I was there. When I sat down with Dawn I explained that I wanted the same haircut I had 4 months ago, it just needed to be trimmed and cleaned up. I also explained to her that I have aleopecia areata and that I lose random patches of hair. I could tell she didn't know what I was talking about when she asked in broken english if my hair had broken off upon my showing her my random bald spot. We settled on her cutting about an inch off. After the shampoo, Dawn proceeded with the cut and as I watched 3 inches of my hair falling to the floor I began to wonder how they measure inches in the Oriental country Dawn was from. I watched my hair fall to the floor and hoped it would all turn out ok when it was dry and styled. No such luck. After all was said and done, I ended up with what looks like a grown out mullet. Generally after the soccer mom like styling indigenous to hair salons I leave wanting to put on some cotton culottes and cruise in my minivan. However, this day I wanted to put on my Van Halen t-shirt and gas up the Thunderbird. Lets hope it grows out soon.