So I’m in the shower the morning after our visit to the L.A. Club Scene (okay, it’s nowhere near morning; LAGrrrl and I are getting a late start) when I realize where I am. I’m in Santa Monica. I’m right down the street from Jonathan hair salon. THE Jonathan of Blow Out! fame. I should walk by and take a picture out front. And then I’m washing my hair and my hungover brain comes up—albeit slowly—with an even better plan. I’m going to walk in. I’m going to meet people. I’m going to get a hundred-dollar hair cut. Yes, dammit, because what could possibly BE more gorgeous and sassy than that?!

LAGrrrl and I take a bus to the mall and then walk the rest of the way after being tricked into trying a bus transfer that turns out to be way too difficult and dangerous to attempt. I’ve got the address tucked into my purse. Check it out—we’re on Wilshire Blvd.! And…there…it…is…looking every bit as cool as it does in the show. I get giddy and force LAGrrrl to take my picture standing in front of the salon from across the street.

We make our way across and LAGrrrl gets a phone call. I cannot resist the temptation and wave her after me as I practically run into the salon and up to the desk. Oh. My. God. It’s him. There’s Jonathan. He’s about two feet from where I stand, grinning like a complete idiot. It’s weird seeing people from TV. You feel like you know them, but they’ve never seen you before in their lives. Oh, shit. Do I sound like a stalker? I ask the blond receptionist Annie if I can get a hair cut. She looks confused, though the appointment book is open right in front of her. And then she picks up the cordless phone and hangs on to it, as if maybe it has the answers. I wonder why the appointment book…or perhaps the people in the salon behind her…don’t seem to have the answers. Finally, she says she’ll check on availability and sort of wonders through the salon.

Meanwhile, I’m staring at Jonathan like a big dumb fool. Annie returns and says that Kimberly can take me in 15 minutes. Oooh! Kimberly! Jonathan’s former assistant! I watched her take her cutting test and rooted for her while Jonathan berated her. I feel relatively confident she’ll do okay on my hair since she passed her cutting test with the girls easily; it was the guys’ cut that gave her trouble. And, really, why are men coming into this salon anyway? They don’t have enough hair to cut.

LAGrrrl is off the phone and waiting for me on the couch. I sit down and we huddle together as I point out Jonathan.

“Are you going to regret it if you leave this place without getting your picture with him?” LAGrrrl demands, and I sigh.

“Probably,” I say in a small voice. “I feel like a dorky obsessed fan.”

LAGrrrl takes charge and asks one of the guys if we can take a picture. He relays my request to Jonathan and we see Jonathan nod from across the room. Please, God, say this happens to him all the time! So I get my Jonathan cutting robe on and we pose together. Two pictures! It’s the most valuable roll of film I’ve ever possessed. My life just might be complete.

So I sit down with Kimberly and tell her what I want done; more of the long layers that have grown completely out since my last hair cut. Kimberly is so sweet and pretty but I don’t want to distract her too much from her art so I don’t converse with her much.

The final product: beautiful and fun. Definitely worth every penny. I just might have to fly to L.A. every two months for a hair cut. Damn, now that’s getting really expensive. Okay, maybe once a year.