Shit I don’t have any more hair, except on the top of my head where it was untouched, and The Runaround

Posted by Thomas Sat, 31 Mar 2007 19:30:51 +0000

So I finally decided to get a haircut today. I left the apartment a little after 5pm and went to a place I’d been to before, and had a decent experience. I arrived around 5:10, walked in and spoke with the lady behind the register that I wanted a haircut. She said that it would be at least 45 minutes. I asked if I could leave and come back. She said that would be fine. She asked me my name and said that she would put me in the computer. I leave. Fast forward 45 minutes. I come back. The ladies there now don’t know anything about me coming in 45 minutes ago. She checks the computer, I’m not in there. They say that it’s first come, first served. I get the feeling they think I’m lying. They say it will be at least 20 minutes. I say I’ll wait. I sit down and start napping. 1 hour later I finally sit down in a chair. By this time it’s 6:45. They close at 7. I take off my glasses, I explain what I want. Layered haircut, off the ears, blocked in the back. I explain, yes, it’s been a really long time since I’ve had a haircut. It’s parted on the left right now, but please part it in the middle for the cut. She said that she would use shears, then scissors, and shampoo. Only later will I realize exactly what she’s talking about. At this stage in the game, I don’t give a flying fck, so I agree to whatever she says. I should have specified that I wanted scissors, but it’s really late, I’ve been here a really long time, and I don’t want to piss her off. I sit in the chair patiently as she dilly-dallies around. I close my eyes and don’t look once at the mirror. I’m not too familiar with the number system associated with shears. I know 0 is the closest, but I haven’t had shear haircuts enough to know exactly how short it cuts. She doesn’t ask me what number I want, she just goes to town. I’m pretty sure I pretty much have a 0 all the way around my head. The sides, the back, 0. Maybe a 1. Either way it’s way too short. And as for the top, I don’t think she cut any of the hair off. As I type, I can see this one lone hair that hangs down past my nose. What was the point of getting it cut if it’s not short enough to stop doing its stupid curl? So, she’s finally done at 7:30. It took her 45 minutes to give me what I am (at the moment) calling my worst haircut ever. The standard cost is $13. For reasons passing understanding, I tip her $2 for my worst haircut. Well, I didn’t realize exactly how bad off I was until I got home and tried to part it. When I tried to part it, and I couldn’t tell that the top was any shorter, I could have killed someone.

I will have to get it cut again. Fuck.
/me not a happy camper

Posted in General | 3 Comments


  1. Laurie said on March 31, 2007 @ 9:58 pm:

    I hate it when shit like that happens…we call it getting in the FUCK LINE!!!

  2. Laurie said on March 31, 2007 @ 10:02 pm:

    Oh…and by the way….we end up there quite often!!!

  3. bigbrother0074 said on April 2, 2007 @ 3:56 am:

    lets see some pictures!!!

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