And, speaking of weird (There was an interval, okay? I was thinking of weird.), I had a very peculiar hair appointment yesterday.

HairMan was ridiculously grateful that I wasn't angry that he'd had to reschedule my appointment. Even though I've been going to see him for the last decade, he was, well, really peculiarly grateful. He hugged me three times and kissed the top of my head at one point. Grateful.

Or, something. I don't know precisely what was going on with him--just that, most unusually, our conversation during my 2-1/4 hour (I hate that) appointment, revolved around sex.

Not only him recounting his previous night's dream where I flashed him my--well, the part of my anatomy that usually hides under my blouse, but a memory he had from five or six years ago when I showed up at an appointment one winter day with--well, that part of my anatomy standing, so to speak, at attention. Apparently that moment has been living in his memory ever since.

(It's difficult to blog about physical topics without using words that will attract sp*mm*rs and the wrong kind of search results.)

I have no idea why my--um, err, you know(s), were so high on his list of conversational topics, but I can say sincerely that I hope he's forgotten about it--them--by the time I have another appointment.

Also, at the end of my appointment, he kissed me goodbye. It's a thing he started doing a few years ago and normally I put up with it--a chaste peck on the cheek from someone I've known for years doesn't freak me out, but last night he went for the lips and I have to say I wasn't thrilled.

He's a nice guy and I don't object to chatting with him while he does my hair (although I frequently wish he'd chat less and work faster, especially since we have little in common*) but we aren't really friends, you know? If I never saw him again, I wouldn't care, as long as I found someone else who could do a decent job of cutting my hair.

In less-bizarre news, I have to go to a wedding Friday evening. It's Vela's and while she's a great ChaosManager and a really nice person? I begrudge giving up precious weekend hours to standing around in a hotel ballroom making desperately polite conversation with people I've never seen before and hope never to see again.

I'm not really as social as I was ten or fifteen years ago, and I was never really all that keen on large parties full of strangers. I'm not good with strangers. (Especially since I quit drinking.)

Weddings can be the worst. People are always, "Oh, how do you know the bride?" And then they stand there, hoping desperately that you give them an interesting response and help them fill at least ten minutes of the interminable four-hour ordeal.

And this time, I'll be, like, "Well, I've worked for her for the last six months. I can't actually remember the name of the guy she's marrying and I've never met him and I've never spent any time with her outside of work or, for that matter, much time with her while at work, but she invited me to her wedding and there's no way to decline attending someone's nuptials without giving mortal offense, so here I am. Not having a good time. Moving on now."

Oh, well. At least the season-ender for Doctor Who was last week, so I don't have to miss it.

I think I'll go back to Mozart.

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* Yesterday? He admitted to voting for Reagan (first term) and the current WPE (also first term).

So, you know, minus points for not being able to spot dangerous ideologues at first sight, and then minus another point for returning to the same rightwingnut well a second time.