Ack! This haircut is driving me crazy! It's foremost on my mind. I repeat that thought over and over. My haircut is like the pretzels from the Woody Allen movie that made Kramer thirsty. I can't help myself:
This haircut is driving me crazy!
This haircut is driving me crazy!
This haircut is driving me crazy!
This haircut is driving me crazy!
All work and no play makes Val a poor imitator of Kramer and Jack Torrance.
My sixteen-year-old son, Genius, stopped by Great Clips for a haircut on Monday. By some mysterious alignment of the universe, he drew Zigaro, the Butcher of Seville. It was as if he'd flipped four coins and they all came up tails. As Teddy, Chris, Gordie, and Vern would say, "That's a goocher!"
I knew it the minute I saw him walk in the door. "Did you get the blond girl at the first station behind the mirror?"
"Yeah. How'd you know?"
"Oh, never mind how I know."
"It's bad, isn't it?"
"Pretty bad."
"I KNEW it! I thought it looked bad in the back when she held that mirror behind my head."
"She gave you a bald spot. And the front looks like Eddie Munster."
"I don't know who that is, but I hate the front. It's all pointy. I want you to cut it off later."
"She gave you a widow's peak."
"You have one, too."
"Don't I know it! I told her to cut it even with the eyebrows. But it goes up and down like the stripe on Charlie Brown's shirt."
"I'm never letting her cut my hair again!"
"You're preachin' to the choir, sonny. You're preachin' to the choir."
Every day my hairstyle looks worse. No region of my noggin appears presentable. Stalks and chunks and wads and wisps stick out. It's like a head-sized jawbreaker fell out of your mouth rolled across the cat's bed.
I'm going to have to find the time to take action. In the meantime, I am studiously avoiding the Hall of Mirrors. It's true. No tour of the Palace of Versailles is on the calendar for me. No house of mirrors, either. I can't look myself in the eye.
Disclaimer: this is not a real test. Your permanent record will not be affected if you don't know all the references.
7 comments:
I'm laughing out loud because I have been there! Texturizing they call it. I call it pinking shear hair. Wear funky shoes and put bells on them; draw attention away from your head.
So... I'm feeling like you may have ... a problem with maybe your makeup? That's it you are trying to steer us clear of the makeup aren't you? :)
Nothing worse than a bad cut!! You should seriously go back, with your receipt and demand a refund. My daughter did once. She got her money back and a competent stylist re-cut her hair. She also insisted they fire the one who botched her cut. My little girl is not to be messed with!
Don't forget, hair today, gone tomorrow! Sorry to hear your hair raising story. But I have to say I have enjoyed reading your story. Think this is why I've been going to the same hair dresser for nearly 20 years. No surprises
hocam,
I would love to still be going to my old hairdresser. Except she chucked it all to start that catering business. I hope nobody finds hair in the food!
Josh,
Apparently, I need remedial work in the "subtle clue" department.
Wow! This is like a family reunion, except that people are arriving too late for the barbecue. Who knew that comments left on May 11 would appear out of thin air on May 20?
Linda,
You overestimate my cool quotient and ability to throw together a happenin' ensemble.
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Kathy,
Obviously, I AM to be messed with. I could not sit through another cut. It would be like complaining about the steak, and wondering if the cook spit on it before returning it to the table.
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