And my hair didn't fly into the fourth dimension this morning, either. I got it cut yesterday - which normally wouldn't be news, except for the hairdresser I had. He seemed like a nice enough guy, until he attempts to start making small talk. He asks what I'm at school for, and since "theoretical computer science with an emphasis on formal, algorithmic and mathematical methods regarding operating systems, correctness, security, and software engineering" is a little hard to say, I just say "math". He asks me if I'm going to school to be a teacher - I said yes. The next part of the haircut, where he buzzes most of my hair off in two minutes flat, seems to be because I want to be a math teacher - he doesn't say anything else til he's done with the buzzer. When he asks me where I'm working right now, I said "Wells Fargo Home Mortgage". Well, there goes that part I had in my hair. Instead, I now have a Death Star Trenchline of Hair that sticks up and makes me look like I should say "Golly Gee Willickers!" to every other thing the main character says (the main character being whoever else is there).
Well, off to work. Let's see who notices.
