7 and 7

Chai tagged me for this 7 and 7 survey. Here ya go.

7 things I plan to do before I die:

1) Visit the architectural heavyweights of the world - The Great Wall of China, the Taj Mahal, etc.
2) See a shuttle launch. (maybe it's already too late...)
3) Adopt a kid or two.
4) Become a professional photographer.
5) Learn to surf.
6) Have a written work published.
7) Be content with my life.

7 things I can do:

1) Make a mean guacamole. (and how!)
2) Find the Orion Nebula with a telescope.
3) Parallel park anything with wheels.
4) Run a five and a half minute mile. (okay, maybe not now that i'm old and flabby)
5) Have a painful affair with the limit on my credit cards.
6) Name the working title of every Buffy episode. (for the love of pete, I am a dork)
7) Give CPR.


7 things I cannot do:

1) Cook, at all.
2) Play an instrument.
3) Get out of debt.
4) Take big risks that will affect the direction of my life.
5) Console crying people.
6) Enjoy country music.
7) Eat cantalope, or anything that's ever touched a cantalope.

7 things that attract me to another person:

1) A hefty cynicism about life.
2) (but:) Optimism about things that can be changed.
3) Sarcastic, occassionally goofy, but not low-brow sense of humor. (no fart jokes)
4) (let's be honest:) Tall, dark and handsome-ness.
5) Individual responsibility.
6) Professional drive, but not at the cost of their humanity.
7) A healthy, but not manic, lifestyle.

7 things I say most often:

1) Dude.
2) What the fuck.
3) Oh my god.
4) I need a job.
5) Fucking hell.
6) Awesome.
7) Chase! NO!!

7 people I want to do this:

1) Rebecca
2) Quinn
3) Scott
4) Stag
5) Jake
6) GG
7) Maisnon

Tragedy at the Hair Salon

I gave in and got my hair did today. Since I have an interview next week I decided I needed to shed the roots I've been nurturing since May so I can look sleek and professional for the big wigs. I didn't feel like renting a car and braving the beltway to get to my usual Maryland place, so I tried out this hot salon in the building I work in. I definitely got my money's worth on the hair cut and color, the people were all friendly, and the decor is top notch.

Hair dressers are strange people. Mine have always been good people, but they're all overly chatty, and I don't really enjoy being trapped in a situation where I have to talk to a stranger for three hours. Especially when those strangers have a tendency to overshare. My particular salon happened to be dripping with tragedy, I discovered, as I sat in my chair and learned the intimate details of two men's lives in an awkward and much too casual way.

First, I met the colorist. Nice guy. From Boston, via New York City. Goes to the dentist in my building, who he highly recommends. His general practitioner in NYC was widely known as Dr. Feel Good because he'd prescribe drugs to his patients hardly-any-questions-asked. My colorist used to get a lot of Ambian from him because he'd take four a night after his partner died in 9/11. He has porcelin veneers. My colorist, that is, not his partner who died in 9/11.

The guy who cut my hair was also very nice, and cute. And straight! His ex-girlfriend is a lawyer who he started dating while she was studying for the bar exam. They broke up because she took a job with BigLaw and he felt like they were having a secret affair rather than a relationship, because she worked 20 hours a day. He loves my long hair. He's growing his hair long so he can cut off 10 inches to donate to cancer patients. His cousin died of leukemia. His other cousin died of lung cancer. She acquired said lung cancer when she was eleven. My hair cutter hates Los Angeles, and showed me how to do sculpted waves with my new cut.

I am uncomfortable. But I have great hair.