There's a Trumpian quality to my hair today. I'm tempted to blame a certain blogger, but it's really been a confluence of events that have left me with this cotton candy-esque situation on my head. I'm normally in for the close-cropped cut every 3 weeks, but Mr. Alan, my hair dude, was busy so I waited four. Then, the aforementioned blogger suggested a BEAUTY DAY, and I was powerless to refuse (although, srsly, I don't think he/she can get any prettier). But another two weeks?! A man's hair should never need to be arranged. Style tip.
ADDED: In other blogger-related news, one of my oldest and dearest and youngest-looking friends suggested that I use Burt's Bees Lip Balm on my nipples when I complained of some post-run chafing. I can't thank him enough. No more chafing (I actually had a scab on Miguel!), and as an added bonus, there's a hint of mint. Let me tell you, it's surprisingly invigorating every time they catch a breeze. Thanks, Young MC!
And I'll leave you with a gratuitous nipple shot of some lad infinitely more blessed of torso than I.