I got my hair done yesterday. My hair stylist is a JW fan so we spent the whole time talking about his bands. Since I turned her on to The Dead Weather last year she's dived into ye olde backe cataloggue and is now a Kills freak as well, with a serious crush on Alison Mosshart. (Actually I could tell that when I walked in by what she was wearing and how she'd styled her hair. True.) I think every woman I've met who sees AM ends up in love with her. (Oh, except one who wants to kick her ass, but I think she has Alison mixed up with Baby Ruthless.)
My haircut must be working. Afterwards I went to Ralphs and got carded when I tried to buy some liquor. I think the checkout lady was joking, but it made my day anyway.
She asked me what day I was born on - the computer must display it for her when she keys in the date of birth from the license. Apparently kids get caught when they have fake ID because they haven't calculated their day of birth - although as far as I know you're not legally obligated to remember your day of birth. Perhaps it just flummoxes them enough that they don't push their luck. Never having been underage in this country I didn't know that...if you are underage please forget I mentioned it as lord knows I'd never encourage anyone to drink of the Electric Soup. Nosirree.
It's quiet. Today is the Swallows Day Parade and so cars are not allowed in San Juan Capistrano. Makes an unbelievable difference to the ambient sound. My keystrokes sound like thunder.
At least one new Dead Weather song has surfaced from the Melbourne gig. It's Die By The Drop. I won't embed it because you know it's an unreleased song and everything. If like me you can't wait, it's here. Sounds great and I can't wait for next month and the Vegas show. Oh, I already said that.
My hairstylist yesterday was already wearing a holster with a pistol (and the others were wearing cowboy hats and leather vests), and I guess she'll be in the parade. Time to get off my blogger's ass and out to watch them all, I suppose.