In my young lassieness, when I would go up to 125th st I used to see a hair salon called Black Hair Is. My smart aleck ass always had some rediculous "is what?" comment, but I'm not that smart anymore, as you've already discovered reading this blog. I tried to find it in the yellow pages to prove it to you, but it doesn't seem to exist anymore. I guess Black Hair wasn't. When I lived in LA, I used to always pass this salon near my house called Oh! My Nappy Hair, which had an annex called Oh! My Nappy Talent Agency. I wish I could make that shit up. The point of my rambling is that I went into Ralph's Discount City on Chambers St. this weekend, and found myself ackin' like I was doing research for my final paper and updo demonstration at Miss Quantanisha's hair school.
Wanna know why?
Cuz at summer camp one year, I bought a jar of minced garlic at the supermarket and raided someone by putting it in their hair while they slept. Call me hairdresser.
I nearly collapsed.
*Warning* gay dicks. Very NSFW.
Sounds to me like a job for:
when your fingers are just too solid to get up in there.
What up with your homeboys?
all I know is, after perusing the texturizing/relaxing aisle, I considered starting a new blog altogether. Just photos. no words. I couldn't possibly compete with the inherent hilarity.
Just let your soul glo. Let it shine through.
If you didn't click on the hairdresser link before, shut your face, don't scroll nowhere, and click this damn video. This chick owns me. I find myself singing this on the toilet first thing when I wake up in the morning. That's way more than you wanted to know about me but it's the damn truth. She's a real tease-a-louise.