It's too much Cantonese...

Listening to: Eihanna - Rehab


I got a haircut this weekend at the usual place: a Chinese barbershop in Fremont, which is the capital city of the Chinese community here in the south bay. One of the most peculiar tendencies I've seen at Chinese barbershops is that they never ask my what I want done with my hair. They automatically assume that I just want a shorter version of what my hair currently looks like. I imagine that if I went in with a wispy afro that they would just give cut it to an afro junior.

They also don't know the meaning of sideburns. They just automatically assume that the sideburns that took several weeks to grow are like weeds and should be eliminated just below where my glasses arms rest. I have the hardest time growing anything that resembles facial hair, so now I've got another few weeks ahead of me to get back to where I was.

Anyway, the bleeding around me ear doesn't represent the barber nicking me. It's actually my ears bleeding from all of the Cantonese that they spoke. It was as if someone take a tin can of rocks, placed it in a cannon and proceeded to shoot my head with the projectile. It was awesome.


Josie suggested I draw an image of myself and my water levels because it has been quite hot here in the south bay this past weekend. I think it may have gotten to around 100 degrees or so. It's too hot to do anything. It's hot to stand and it's hot to sit. Hopefully it cools down this week.