Our apartment kept all the soda boxes we had so I thought I'd do it again. But this time, my chest piece was greatly improved. I bought a bike about a month ago and it came in a rather large box. One just big enough to fit my bulging pecs and certainly big enough width-wise. I went to work with my roommates knife. My roommate was sleeping in the living room at the time and I walked out with the box on and all he said was, "David... I love you man..." I aim to please, what can I say?
So my roommate threw on a red plaid shirt, my Beardhead and lumberjack hat (see Mustache Monday post) and we were on our way. First we knocked on some guys' apartments to see if we could get more boxes as some of the one's I had on would inevitably break. Sadly, nothing turned up. So we went to the girls' side to see if they'd have candy or something. The first door these girls opened the door and gave us very weird looks, understandably. We asked them if they had any boxes, then inquired as to the presence of candy in the apartment. They said no, but then brought out a huge box of donuts. We accepted one each and continued on our quest. Since I didn't dare go up stairs in my costume, we went out to the sidewalk and danced on the corner and made cars stop. I mean, who's gonna dare run over a robot right?
We then heard some music coming from down the street and decided to hit that up and dance around. There was in fact a dance party at an apartment complex and we joined in. Again many weird looks, and compliments, were received. At one point, three guys (I assume) in green man suits saw me and came over and started dancing with us. Then two more guys dressed as teletubbies came over and started dancing as well. If I didn't know better I'd guess that's what it's like to be on drugs. So many weird things were going on.
Devan (my roommate) and I eventually made our way into the center of the group and continued to dance. People kept telling me to do the robot, but I assured them I wasn't programmed to dance like that. After a while one of their bouncers (or some random fat guy) told me I had to get out of the center because I was taking up too much space and hitting people with my boxes. I was, but c'mon man! I wanna party!
After a while the dance regressed and the box for my left foot totally got destroyed so we called it a night.
I woke up today at 1 and decided it was high time for a haircut. One of my roommate's lady friends works at the Paul Mitchell Hair Academy and told me it was only nine bucks and the treatment was amazing. She wasn't kidding.
I get there at about 2:15 and give my name and all that jazz. There's some 50 women walkin around, cuttin hair, doin girl talk and all that jazz. I was intimidated to say the least. After a few minutes of waiting, I was approached by a five foot woman with very short purple hair. She was my stylist. We walk over to her station and right as I sit down she starts feeling up my hair and tells me she's never felt hair like mine before. At first I thought it was a compliment, but then I was brought back to reality as she said it was very dry, coarse, and thick. Thanks mom.
After she asked what kind of style I wanted and, what I assumed was her supervisor, came over, she rubbed some oil in my hair and started giving me a full on head massage. It felt awesome. But it did leave my hair very fluffy and 'afro-ey'. She took a while to cut my hair which is my only grievance, but after she was done, she took me into another room full of head washing stations. Inside this dimly lit room, soft music was playing to 'bring in the zen'. She rinsed my hair with warm water and, again, rubbed my hair with a shampoo mixed with mint green tea something or other. This made my head and hair very tingly and cold and... Well it's difficult to describe. After that, she styled my hair into a cool little faux hawk and my trip was done. All of that for just $9. Sure beats getting a simple buzz at Great Clips for $16 where an Asian women named Li Tam tells you, 'Oh your hair very damaged from chlorine. Feels very bad. You buy shampoo make it all betta'
Now I feel normal again with hair that I don't need to style every morning. Off to another night full of robot hijinks.
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