Every known phenomenon on Earth pales in comparison to the moment i step out of the Boardroom doors. Lola works her magic on each strand of my hair like the Greek Moirai spinning the threads of Fate. Never in all my days have i been so handsome. All manner of people swoon at the sight of my head once i breach the threshold of that salon. The wind itself whispers, “Fresh.” as it gently blows through my locks. There are very few words that could hope to describe a masterpiece by such an artist; some might say “Fire”, others “Biblical”. I, however, find it most appropriate to compare it to the birthing of a brand new God. One that puts all of Olympus to shame.