Just because I am possibly the Greatest Wife Ever, I treated Adam to a haircut at the really chi-chi (well, chi-chi for the Westside) day spa. See, until 5 p.m. yesterday, he had been rocking a version of the Beckham circa World Cup 2002. Long, unkempt, flowy. Very young F1 star-ish.
Only, we've got a court date in Denver on Friday (nothing serious, just going to contest a speeding ticket) and I thought a judge might take a dim view to the husband's flowing locks. So I took both of us to get our hair trimmed.
As is the case with the really-chi-chi-for-the-Westside day spa, I got the balding man of undescernible sexuality who hates his life, and Adam got the hot chick with the rocking ass. It was truly stunning. Jennifer Lopez would kill to have an ass of this magnitude. It was high and round, like two over-filled helium balloons wrapped in a pair of black trousers. I got a good look at it when my stylist lead me to the washing station, and was impressed enough to bring it up over dinner.
Big mistake. Adam's still talking about that ass. Me: "That ass."
Him: "Man. Legend."
Yeah.
The hair turned out really well, should you think it was all just asses. Adam's now looking like a mod British rocker (it's either early Mick Jagger or post-punk Duran Duran, I can't decide) and I had a good four inches sliced off.
Good times, good times.
Only, we've got a court date in Denver on Friday (nothing serious, just going to contest a speeding ticket) and I thought a judge might take a dim view to the husband's flowing locks. So I took both of us to get our hair trimmed.
As is the case with the really-chi-chi-for-the-Westside day spa, I got the balding man of undescernible sexuality who hates his life, and Adam got the hot chick with the rocking ass. It was truly stunning. Jennifer Lopez would kill to have an ass of this magnitude. It was high and round, like two over-filled helium balloons wrapped in a pair of black trousers. I got a good look at it when my stylist lead me to the washing station, and was impressed enough to bring it up over dinner.
Big mistake. Adam's still talking about that ass. Me: "That ass."
Him: "Man. Legend."
Yeah.
The hair turned out really well, should you think it was all just asses. Adam's now looking like a mod British rocker (it's either early Mick Jagger or post-punk Duran Duran, I can't decide) and I had a good four inches sliced off.
Good times, good times.
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