(diaryland) April 04, 2003 - 7:33 p.m.

My sisters cut my hair. A switch went off in my head and I realised I needed my hair cut right then or else bad shit could go down, there and then.

It was all surreptitious and underworldy. It took place in the lower half of my parents' split-level house. I forced my youngest sister to find sharp scissors and we disappeared off to her Xena-poster-infused room.

After I made a lot of noisy threatening sounds, my other sister figured out what was going on, came in and started supervising. Things were going great.

Then my Dad came in. He took one look at the hair all over the floor, and then he went sort of crestfallen-looking. "I don't think this is a very good idea," he said. Technically, that was true. Then my parents had an arguement all about my head in the living room.

It just so happens that my sister is actually able to cut straight. This was a good thing. Suddenly, I had this incredible new groovy style. I couldn't wipe this weird 'dude, I fucking rock!' look of my face. It was worrying.

The last time I got my hair cut was two years ago and it was ugly and cost seventy bucks.