You came into my salon, because your "regular" colorist was too busy. You wanted me to blend in that 5 inches of dirty blond into your over processed, straw like bleached blond hair. I did what you wanted - for two hours, and when we were done, you weren't happy. So, I did another technique - and, another two hours of hair therapy on you, and, even tho it did the trick, you STILL didn't like it. All the while, you boasted about your "transformation" and your "brain tumor" and your ability to feel the love from everyone. Funny, when you didn't get what you wanted, you turned into just another one of those self centered, narcissistic, Clairol bitches who wants someone else to perform magic tricks on their neglected, over processed head full of shit hair. Your "kindly loving" way of objecting to any form of payment was priceless. That new agey shit you spout taught you something... it showed me something too. It showed me that deep down, you weren't transformed, you found a new way to be a scamming BITCH... Nice for you, because you didn't pay a dime for my services, nice for me, because I never have to hear your fucking bullshit stories in that whiny drone of yours again...