Well, I don't have a mullet. What I do have is a dysfunctional relationship with my new stylist, Olga. Since Olga is Russian, she gets to say things like, "Look at zeeis." (She waves a handful of my hair.) "All of zeeis." (She drops it in disgust.) "Dead. Limp. Heedious. Vee must have it gone." So, she highlighted, lowlighted, and hacked off six inches. She also teased and hairsprayed. ("Geently teez at least tree sections. Zeen you spray. Zeeis geevs illusion that hair is beegger. You must do zeeis.") I now own a can of hairspray that's at least two feet tall and have appointments scheduled with Olga through 2012.
In other news, I'm a tad delicate this morning. 29-year-olds do not get hangovers.