In every vaguely atas neighbourhood hairstylist that you frequent, there is always one hairstylist named Ice. More often than not, you can tell who it is from the blonde hair or blue highlights.

Interesting isn't it?

Everywhere you go, there is a Role for you to play. The supposedly Good Older Cousin that everyone thinks is a role model. The loser who's always following them, but never going with them. The Joker. Black T-Shirt and Jeans.

People expect you to fill the role and you do it because when you don't, people get confused. And when you do, it settles in and it's hard to evict. It really does get on my nerves sometimes when you try and get out of your Role. You dress up for a night on the town and people say you act cool rather than say "Oh, there's a nice shirt you got there mate!" They try their best to remind you of your past and all the stupid mistakes you made rather than let you try to be a better person.

You're like a baby Godzilla. All cute and cuddly when you first get him. Then he grows teeth the size of baseball bats and starts toppling over skyscrapers.



You're going to need a bigger litterbox.