Sniff Sniff

Q and I are planning on going away for the weekend to get a much needed break from the city. I'm coming down with a cold. It never fails. Happens almost every time. Spent the week in San Fran with a nasty head cold and thought my head was going to explode on the plane. Spent a lot of time in NY sleeping because I was really under the weather. I almost didn't want to go then.

On a brighter note, I'm getting my hair cut tonight. Always makes me feel better. I think I'll just give my hairdresser carte blanche and let him do whatever he wants. I like surprises.

Is it gay to call the person who cuts your hair your "hairdresser", and the place where you go "the Salon?" Q always makes fun of me for saying that. I don't know what else to call them that doesn't sound faggy. It is not a Barber Shop with an old fart with an electric razor. It's in Yorkville. I pay, but I always get a great cut. They're the only place that has been able to tame my mane. Somehow "barber" just doesn't cut it (no pun intended).