9am
I'm with a friend. A boy? I want to get my hair dyed... Perhaps I am with my cousin, Lorena.
We are at the hair salon, but I have brought my own box of blonde hair color. It's golden blonde.
The place looks cheap, and I don't trust them. The person I am with, who may or may not be my cousin, goes into another room.
I am friends with the stylist, so I don't want to embarrass her by leaving. I explain in detail exactly what I want done, but she comes back with a color mixture far too light. I hate it. I try to explain what "low-lights" are, but none of the hairdressers seem to understand me. I begin to get frustrated. I feel this to be an incredulous situation and announce to the crowd of innocent stylists that I will try to find another example of low-lights to bring in, then I swiftly leave the salon for good.
Wake.
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