My Bouffant
By the way, I got my haircut a few days ago and I must say that for $30+$5 tip I don't feel like any of my damn hair was cut. Furthermore, the event took one hour. ONE HOUR! At one point I think she had to take a 5 minute breather...
I mean come on, back in Knoxville at my old barber I could get my hair cut, eat a 2 day stale Krispy Kreme doughnut and flip thru at least one car magazine in 22 minutes all in the company of his hunting trophies and stale coffe smells. And all this, for just 7 measely George Washingtons. Additionally, there would be substantial amounts of the shiny black oh-so-mighty gelled hair clumps strewn about the black & white checker tiled floor. I mean I could see the crap. Even sight-unseen I knew that the shear-sucker (a contraption fashioned by my barber consisting of a 2 horsepower shop-vac and clippers duct taped together) was doing its job. I could literally feel my head getting lighter.
Albeit, I did stop going to him when I was like 13 but the fact of the matter is that I think I don't need a stylist to pay a visit to each of my individual hairs with the shears. Just cut the crap - if I drink a lot of 2% milk it'll grow back in a week anyway
The only saving grace is that the stylist, a somewhat attractive tall Chinese 30 something, gave me a scalp massage. That part. Was. Awesome. Keep in mind that my head is a collar impugning ~97 inches in circumference. Circa pumpkin. So the attic cajoling was a mighty nice touch. Hmm, in retrospect that might've actually made up for the day, um, time I spent there. Then again, it probably didn't.
A particularly memorable bouffant related comment she made was, (in broken English) "You got lossa hair. Big cowlick. I fix that next time."
Lady, I don't know if there's gonna be a next time...
I mean come on, back in Knoxville at my old barber I could get my hair cut, eat a 2 day stale Krispy Kreme doughnut and flip thru at least one car magazine in 22 minutes all in the company of his hunting trophies and stale coffe smells. And all this, for just 7 measely George Washingtons. Additionally, there would be substantial amounts of the shiny black oh-so-mighty gelled hair clumps strewn about the black & white checker tiled floor. I mean I could see the crap. Even sight-unseen I knew that the shear-sucker (a contraption fashioned by my barber consisting of a 2 horsepower shop-vac and clippers duct taped together) was doing its job. I could literally feel my head getting lighter.
Albeit, I did stop going to him when I was like 13 but the fact of the matter is that I think I don't need a stylist to pay a visit to each of my individual hairs with the shears. Just cut the crap - if I drink a lot of 2% milk it'll grow back in a week anyway
The only saving grace is that the stylist, a somewhat attractive tall Chinese 30 something, gave me a scalp massage. That part. Was. Awesome. Keep in mind that my head is a collar impugning ~97 inches in circumference. Circa pumpkin. So the attic cajoling was a mighty nice touch. Hmm, in retrospect that might've actually made up for the day, um, time I spent there. Then again, it probably didn't.
A particularly memorable bouffant related comment she made was, (in broken English) "You got lossa hair. Big cowlick. I fix that next time."
Lady, I don't know if there's gonna be a next time...
2:00 PM, January 19, 2006
No crafty pictures to accompany this post? What a shame. I guess I'll just have to let my little TN noggin' do some imaginin'. :)