I got my hair cut yesterday, even with a hangover that you could (in the words of Bill Bryson) sell to
At one point, she asked him where he got his hair cut, and the guy replied (paraphrased -- I wasn't taking notes) "I go to Shanghai once a year -- there's this guy there who's the only person I trust."
Now, he didn't seem to be joking, though it was obvious bullshit. That's a new level of hipster oneupmanship. Is the barber in Shanghai the hair stylist's version of obscure Finnish noise bands?