In a developing story out of Los Angeles, CA, your hairdresser is currently wishing she were with a cooler client than you right now.
This could have been easily surmised as you walked into the extremely hip salon built out of a rehabbed garage in Echo Park without an appointment, where everyone has better tattoos than you and obviously better hair.
You tentatively asked the hairdresser where she grew up, as the people at the chair next to you seemed to be talking about a sex party they both attended.
At that point, it became devastatingly clear that your hairdresser wished that she were talking to someone who didn’t grow up in Orange County and works in marketing.
Sources report that you are wishing you just went to the Supercuts in Hollywood or something because all you really needed was a trim for your very normal, boring hair.
Witnesses can confirm that your hairdresser is starting to fill the silence by talking to her coworker who went to the sex party, probably because you started talking about your sick dog again.
As you struggle to come up with an anecdote, any anecdote, that will make you seem even remotely interesting, your hairdresser asks you if you want a blow dry in a monotone, and you say, “No thanks, I’m good.”
At press time, you realized that you really wanted that blow-dry, but know you didn’t deserve it.