In one of my last Ryan’s wedding beautifications was today. A haircut. I haven’t had my haircut since February. The week I was home from London, I got my haircut really short by Ernie at Trilogy Hair Salon. Now, Ernie is a little rough as a sylist, which might be why I can always call the day of and get an appointment, but he is my sylist and he does a great job.
Today I decided to just get a trim instead of a full cut. To keep the length so I can pull it back into a ponytail and legally out of your food. Ernie did a fanstatic job and in honor of my new cut, I got a special dinner at the corner of Milwaukee and North Avenue.
Char Polish with the works! Hooray! I love a good sausage and this was no exception. Chicago style–pickle, tomatos, lots of peppers, mustard, and ketchup. The trick was walking and eating it, but I was up to the challenge.
Was being the operative word.
About 3/4 of the way into the polish, I caught my flip flop on a crack in the sidewalk. My polish went flying and I was left holding the bun and covered in relish. The guy walking towards me saw everything and tried to pretend like he didn’t. I just shrugged my shoulders, licked my fingers, and walked on.
I felt very Rhoda about the whole thing, like the credits could now roll and everyone will be ready for 30 minutes of laugh track at my expense.
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