Darkside Rainbow

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Er. Remember when I said I’d never cut my hair again, down to the point of threatening Carlos with an electric purple weave if he came near me with a pair of scissors?

Yeah, well…”never” turned out to be “when I got so preoccupied that I let my hair go to hell and by the time it hit 18 inches long, 10 inches of it was a dry, broken, frizzy, dead mess that couldn’t be saved.”

So…yes. Rapunzel has been shorn. That’s not a good representation of it, but I’m still getting used to drawing it. It’s short, it’s punky, it’s sideswept, it sticks up everywhere, it saves me an hour a day, and I am discovering the wonders of gel (yes, I’ve become one of those guys). I don’t know if I’m going to keep it short or not; I like it more than I thought I would, but at the same time I keep having these moments in the mirror where I think “oh god, my hair!” and get all whimpery. It’s kind of pathetic. You should have seen me when I turned around in the stylist’s chair and just saw all these ropes of hair lying on the floor. She thought I was going to cry.

But it was worth it to see the looks on my friends’ faces. And it may be much easier to deal with after the Chicago move, as it’s much windier up there…so that’s incentive to keep it short.

I only wish I’d been able to give Carlos the pleasure of cutting it, as he’s been begging for a good two years now. But alas, Carlos has moved on to greener pastures in more upscale salons, and the rest of the people at that salon…well, they’re a bunch of rude, stuck up putas who get their ta-tas in a knot if you dare to call and ask when they might have an appointment open. So I had to call around, but eventually I found a place within walking distance, with reasonable prices and people experienced with dealing with highly mixed ethnic hair types, and got to spend two hours in a chair with a lovely woman named Freda. We alternated between comfortable silence while I worked (I brought my laptop and some writing assignments for New!Job, and had my mobile internet, thank you Verizon) and laughing our arses off while arguing over just how short it was going to be in the back (I was in a mood and wanted it gone so badly I would have let her shave it, but thankfully her cooler head prevailed and I’ve got layers anywhere from one to four inches long that I can spike all over the place). In the end she did a great job, and I’ll definitely be going back there until I move.

Aaaaanyway. That’s enough about my hair. I really don’t have much else to say; that’s been the most exciting thing in the past week, other than getting my first paycheck for my new job. Isn’t my life exhilarating?

Here. Have a practice sketch I did using a photo reference to try to work out how in hell I’ll be drawing my hair for the comics from now on.

See that? That is why I don’t post photos online; when I stop squinting and glaring at things, I look like a big-eyed waif-boy. And the short hair only makes it worse.

Oh, and sorry I half-assed the art on the comic. Busy weekend and I was in a bit of a rush. At the end of the month I’m finally buying my Cintiq as a birthday present to myself and to celebrate my one-year anniversary with 451, so the quality of the art should start improving on these things.

Bleh. I’m out.

Ciao.

~Adri

no style, webcomics, gay comic strip, gay humor, if there was ever any doubt that I was gay…