Got my hair cut today. Supercuts.
It's come to that, sadly.
In theory, it not such a big deal. My hair is easy - short on the sides, longer on the top, clean it all up, BAM, your done. A parakeet could do it. Why pay $60 when you can spend only $15?
And that's what I explained to the woman with the scissors ("stylist" would just be a cruel exercise in wishful thinking for her at this point).
She stared at me blankly in the mirror, not unlike my dogs when I talk to them.
And then we began, and she just wouldn't shut the hell up.
Talking, talking talking.
Not at me, at the woman cutting hair next to us. She talked over my head like I wasn't even there.
She was quite animated and excited. She had recently discovered Pier One Imports. I don't know if they're just new to Bako, or she's incredibly slow. I'm gonna go with "B".
You'd think she'd just discovered King Tut's Tomb. Or a yard sale. On and on she went... they had EVERYTHING... furniture and place mats, "art" and... well, just EVERYTHING. Even Mojito sets!
Funny, I had pegged her as a Jello Shot kinda gal.
She said she even went back just for "inspiration to decorate".
I wasn't aware Sweat Shop Chic had taken off.
And then our time was up, my haircut done.
The results are as you'd imagine - it looks like my head went through a wood chipper.
All the same, I tipped her. That's just the kinda guy I am. Hopefully she'll put the money towards cosmetology school.
And me? I headed to Pier One to see if they have any really big straw hats.
