Death By Pantyhose
“There was, however, a hairball the size of a cannoli on my dining room table.But I had to count my blessings. At least I wasn't in Florida buying shirts from the homeless."Thanks loads," I said to Prozac, as I scooped up the hairball with a paper towel.Don't mention it. She swished her tail and sashayed over to her food bowl."You're a spoiled brat; you know that, don't you?"Can we skip the chatter and go straight to the main course?I slopped some Luscious Lamb Guts into her bowl. She arched her back for her breakfast back rub, but she arched in vain. Two could play at this cold shoulder game.I'd just finished washing up the remains of her hairball when I glanced down at yesterday's mail, still on the dining room table where I'd tossed it. And there on the top of the pile was the letter from Gustavo Mendes-according to Lance, L.A.'s hottest new hairstylist. I picked up the letter and read it again. The stationery was impressively thick and creamy.
And there, printed in a tasteful call...igraphic typeface, was Gustavo's invitation to come in for a free hair styling.Normally I tend to shy away from fancy salons where a cut and color costs more than a Kia.MoreLess
And there, printed in a tasteful call...igraphic typeface, was Gustavo's invitation to come in for a free hair styling.Normally I tend to shy away from fancy salons where a cut and color costs more than a Kia.MoreLess
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