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February 11, 2010
In late 2008, my hairdresser made it clear that she didn't know basic measurement units. My instruction to take off two inches resulted in enough hair to fashion into a makeshift cousin for my cat. At first I was dismayed and an entire lexicon of adjectives that don't mean "happy". Rather than tumble over my shoulders like Linus' blanket, my new hair swang/sweng/swinged/swong/swung/swyng just above them. I felt so -- QUEER ALERT -- free! (So I tossed some granola into the air like Rip Taylor's glitter, hurled my high heels into the Hudson, and danced on broken glass on 9A!)