Cosmetologists are smokers.
As a matter of fact, in my neck of the woods, for every 47 cosmetology students (the future beauticians of the world), 2 are non-smokers. FREAKING TWO. Exactly one half of that quad of healthy lungs belongs to me. I used to be an occasional smoker...like 3 death sticks a year. But now, everyone I'm around is smoking. To combat my urge to light up, I've been popping Reese* mini peanut butter cups like the Russians are coming [you know, to steal all the miniature peanut butter cups]. But since I skip dinner because I don't want to compound all that sweet chocolate goodness with actual food, I don't think this is gonna last too long. I like dinner, damnit.
In other news, we had lotsa free time today in class so we went crazy shampooing and drying and scalp-massaging each other. PLUS our hella cool teach. gave anyone who wanted one a free hair cut. Almost everyone walked out today freshly trimmed. I got Mena Suvari bangs (you'll only know what I'm talking about if you watch the latest season of Six Feet Under).
I had something interesting to relate to y'all, but it slips the mind right now.
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