The same lady who did my hair last time was there this time. I got a look at her name tag and saw she was none other than Park Suk Kyung-- the owner of Park Suk Kyung Hair ID! Maybe this explains the extra treatment: I was being done by the Big Boss.
It's the same privilege that's coveted by X-wing pilots: if you're going to be shot down, you want your death to come at the hands of Darth Vader: "Leave him to me. I will deal with him myself." No one wants to be handled by a minion.
As with last time, she gave my brain a shampoo-lubricated deep-tissue massage, and it was all I could do to keep from sprouting a hard-on. How many women do you know who can make professional love to your scalp, eh? I ask you!
I left the place 7000 won poorer, my skull aglow from Miss Park's brutal-yet-disturbingly-sexy ministrations. And I type these words with a huge, shit-eating grin on my blubberous face.
_
Wednesday, March 17, 2004
Anything Goes Wednesday-- Fart Two
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