So the other day, I dropped 70 dollars on a tank of gas. I know, griping about gas prices is a pretty obvious and irritating thing to do. But as I was driving away from the Maverick, enjoying my Bahama Mama, I realized I needed a haircut. I also needed to get some pomade and shampoo. This kind of product I get is about $20, but it usually lasts me 6 months. The point is, after getting raped by
There has only been one other time that I have had a haircut this short. I was getting a standard haircut by Deb at Great Clips, early summer ‘99. Deb was a plump lady that had long finger nails and smacked her gum a lot. And she called me ‘hun’. So Deb is doing the ‘comb the hair up and buzz the top of the comb with the clippers’ technique that seems to be popular among the Dallas Roberts grads. And, I guess she was distracted that day because she accidentally buzzed below the comb. Deb drops the clippers, bursts into tears and says “I just can’t do anything right.” Then plopped down in a chair and sobbed. Deb was having a bad day.
Like most men, I have been trained over a lifetime to immediately concede any opinion or grievance the second a woman starts crying. Instead I say whatever I can to put out the fire. “No! It looks fine. It’s summer, I wanted to go with a flat top. Don’t worry about it! Yeah, I’va always wanted a flat top. It’s okay.” So I ended up with an accidental flat top. I like to think I looked like Dolph Lundgren. But I suspect I looked more like Greg Ostertag.