Welcome to the Little Barbershop of Horrors______________________________________________________________________
I recently got my hairs cut. I know...you're thinking: "But why?! Your hair looked perfect the way it was!" And while I agree with you, 95% of my family and close friends do not.
Option 1: Find a new family and friends
Option 2: A haircut
It was actually a surprisingly tough call to make...but I chose haircut. So I went in, having been so proud of avoiding a formal barbershop haircut for months, maybe even over a year! I can't be entirely sure! Once my hair was cut...I lost all my memories as well as my gorgeous flowing locks. Anyways...as I walked inside, my senses were bombarded. My nose was filled with shampoos and conditioners that were fruity with a hint of floral. My ears were filled with the humming of whatever that thing is that sits on a woman's head while she's wrapped in foil. My eyes were attacked by the sight of hair on the floor, being swept by an incredibly old woman. I was in hell.
When I get a haircut at this lady's place, one of the only things that I like is not having to talk. I just sit in her chair, which is not as big as you once thought it was...way back when you were 5, and I stare off at the ceiling or into space. We usually talk for a good 5-10 minutes to catch up, then fortunately she knows her role and after that short convo. will only ask "How's this?" That's what I'm talking about. You better shut your mouth when you're running your fingers through my hair as you wash it with water of the perfect temperature and shampoo that has a hint of coconut to it. That's when I'm in heaven.
Sadly, I return back to the terrible things surrounding me as I sit up. My heels are too far back, and prevent her from spinning the chair around so she can begin cutting. But they're comfortable thereeeeee. Ugh. Fine...but now my heels hurt. Then she begins to cut. We finish our conversation. She has been instructed as to the hair style I am hoping to achieve. It was something brand new this time, so "How's this?" was asked more than usual...but I didn't mind this time. What I did mind was the evil businesswoman sitting next to me. She talked loudly on her cell phone while I was getting my hair cut. She had her head shoved up in that ugly bubble, while her nasty old mangy hair was wrapped in tin foil. I can only assume she was attempting to reach her home planet. She started complaining about having to yell at someone for doing a bad job on the job site the other day...as if she ACTUALLY hated it. She loved it. I could hear it in her voice and see it in the curve of her nasty grin. Literally...she liked it. Then, like her head was a Thanksgiving turkey cooking, a small timer went off, my lady stopped and ran over to the female Grinch wrapped in foil. She did her thing, then came back. She got back to work. Then she was snatched away from me again just a few minutes later when crazy ole bat lady said she simply had to go to the bathroom and needed help out...no matter what was going on with her hair at the time. Nice. Now I'm positive I know why your hair looks terrible...because you don't follow instructions, lady. Sheesh. Can't you hold it and not take my lady away from me again? Also...your clothes are hideous. Are you actually 40-ish? You dress like you're senile or a 6-year-old girl playing dress-up. How do you have a position of authority? Grab a power suit then let's talk.
Well, as my haircut finished...it actually looked really good, considering we tried something new. Yay! It wasn't so bad after all. Oh wait...it's time to take this zebra-striped drape off of me that is covered in all my hair so that I can get up and the Hair-Hoarding old lady can sweep the hair up? Ok. What's that you say? You can't wait to pull it off so I can get small bits of hair down the back of my shirt all afternoon and so that a huge wad of hair will fall onto my stylish white canvas shoes and remain there for days? I'm game, lady!
Best ending of a haircut ever. No one cares if they see a guy reaching his arms down his back to scratch like a flea-ridden monkey...and if his shoes appear to be related to gophers...you know why?! Because that guy has a killer haircut.
Option 1: Find a new family and friends
Option 2: A haircut
It was actually a surprisingly tough call to make...but I chose haircut. So I went in, having been so proud of avoiding a formal barbershop haircut for months, maybe even over a year! I can't be entirely sure! Once my hair was cut...I lost all my memories as well as my gorgeous flowing locks. Anyways...as I walked inside, my senses were bombarded. My nose was filled with shampoos and conditioners that were fruity with a hint of floral. My ears were filled with the humming of whatever that thing is that sits on a woman's head while she's wrapped in foil. My eyes were attacked by the sight of hair on the floor, being swept by an incredibly old woman. I was in hell.
When I get a haircut at this lady's place, one of the only things that I like is not having to talk. I just sit in her chair, which is not as big as you once thought it was...way back when you were 5, and I stare off at the ceiling or into space. We usually talk for a good 5-10 minutes to catch up, then fortunately she knows her role and after that short convo. will only ask "How's this?" That's what I'm talking about. You better shut your mouth when you're running your fingers through my hair as you wash it with water of the perfect temperature and shampoo that has a hint of coconut to it. That's when I'm in heaven.
Sadly, I return back to the terrible things surrounding me as I sit up. My heels are too far back, and prevent her from spinning the chair around so she can begin cutting. But they're comfortable thereeeeee. Ugh. Fine...but now my heels hurt. Then she begins to cut. We finish our conversation. She has been instructed as to the hair style I am hoping to achieve. It was something brand new this time, so "How's this?" was asked more than usual...but I didn't mind this time. What I did mind was the evil businesswoman sitting next to me. She talked loudly on her cell phone while I was getting my hair cut. She had her head shoved up in that ugly bubble, while her nasty old mangy hair was wrapped in tin foil. I can only assume she was attempting to reach her home planet. She started complaining about having to yell at someone for doing a bad job on the job site the other day...as if she ACTUALLY hated it. She loved it. I could hear it in her voice and see it in the curve of her nasty grin. Literally...she liked it. Then, like her head was a Thanksgiving turkey cooking, a small timer went off, my lady stopped and ran over to the female Grinch wrapped in foil. She did her thing, then came back. She got back to work. Then she was snatched away from me again just a few minutes later when crazy ole bat lady said she simply had to go to the bathroom and needed help out...no matter what was going on with her hair at the time. Nice. Now I'm positive I know why your hair looks terrible...because you don't follow instructions, lady. Sheesh. Can't you hold it and not take my lady away from me again? Also...your clothes are hideous. Are you actually 40-ish? You dress like you're senile or a 6-year-old girl playing dress-up. How do you have a position of authority? Grab a power suit then let's talk.
Well, as my haircut finished...it actually looked really good, considering we tried something new. Yay! It wasn't so bad after all. Oh wait...it's time to take this zebra-striped drape off of me that is covered in all my hair so that I can get up and the Hair-Hoarding old lady can sweep the hair up? Ok. What's that you say? You can't wait to pull it off so I can get small bits of hair down the back of my shirt all afternoon and so that a huge wad of hair will fall onto my stylish white canvas shoes and remain there for days? I'm game, lady!
Best ending of a haircut ever. No one cares if they see a guy reaching his arms down his back to scratch like a flea-ridden monkey...and if his shoes appear to be related to gophers...you know why?! Because that guy has a killer haircut.
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