Long Duck Dong
My hair stylist's name is Duc. The first time I met him, he said, "My name is Duc - you know, like Long Duck Dong." I fell in love with him immediately. I quickly learned, though, that if Duc does your hair (or you want him to do your hair), you best be prepared to be broken and beaten down...and dragged through the muck that is your fucked up hair (because, until you have a fresh Duc do, your shit is fucked up...trust me). I like to go 12 weeks before touching up my highlights and color. And in the hair dresser world, that is the hugest NO-NO ever. Well, that, and having a long, nappy, fried mane. So, if you don't want to hear "DAMN, GIRL, your hair looks like shit!" the second you walk through the door, Duc's not your man. I happen to think his brutal honesty is refreshing. If Duc's thinking it, you're gonna hear it. Period. And when I tell him that I hadn't been in to see him because I've been soooo poor lately, he says, "Yeah, it shows....I hope you don't go around telling people I do your hair when it looks like THAT!" He's a straight-up Jackass. But I love him. And I miss him. I did my own color this past weekend. He's going to kill me.