The Haircut

Dear Fellow Bloggers and Future Leaders of America,

Disclaimer: The blog you are about to read may very well change your life; however, for better or worse is unfortunately out of my control. It is entirely up to the reader and how he/she chooses to use said information.

First of all, I would like to take this opportunity to welcome myself to the 21st century and this lovely blogging community. This is a huge step for me, and I'm sure you are all very proud.
I would also like to thank Al Gore for inventing the internet for us so that we can keep in touch and also for giving us the environment.

This week I got a haircut. Isn't that great? I recieved said haircut at a salon that was recommended by a friend with two first names. (Note to self: taking advice from people with two first names should be done with upmost caution). First, I must stress how difficult this haircut was for me. I have always regarded the client/stylist relationship as one of fidelity. It's not business, it's personal. When you find a good stylist/barber, you stick with them for better or worse. I unfornately was tempted by the fruit of another.

It all began about 5-6 weeks ago at my previous haircut experience when I was sexually harassed by my exstylist. Bloggers, the remainder of this blogoraph is rated PG-13 for mildly strong sexual content. It went down during the shampoo session of the appointment. Exstylist proceeded to shampoo the back of my neck for what seemed to be 3-5 minutes. Last time I checked, I didn't have much hair on the back of the neck. Nevertheless, she lathered, rinsed, and repeated while informing me she just broke up with her boyfriend. Needless to say, I was a bit uncormfortable. But I don't think the back of my neck has ever been cleaner.

Recent past. . . I decided to try a new stylist as recommended by forementioned friend with two first names. This place was swanky. It was like a salon/night club, but the musak was more soothing. This place even offers men beer while they wait for the haircut. I was not as fortunate to recieve this perk because my appointment was for 9 am, and they don't start serving alcohol until 10:30 am. While I was waiting, I kept recieving smiles from the staff and other clientele. I was thinking to myself, that this place was really friendly. It wasn't until I sat down in the barber chair and looked into the mirror to see a spot of chocolate on my nose from that morning's mocha. That's funny.

The haircut was going great. You should have seen it. I have never seen such masterful use of scissors except from Johnny Depp in Edward Scissorhands. I mean we are talking that good.
I recieved a phone call while in the chair. Leslie just said, "I am a prisoner of my own mind." Isn't that great? Anyway, the phone call was from none other than my exstylist checking up on me, and I was in the middle of cheating on her. How could I answer? I did not answer. I would not, should not, could not answer. So nothing happened. Moviescript ending, huh?

But that is not the end. I am not yet done wasting your time with my story. The cost of this affair was astronomical. It made me nauseated when I heard it. Forty-eight freakin' dollars. That number is now forever burned in my memory. For the rest of the day, I kept repeating that number to myself under my breath. I even saw the number everywhere . . . street addresses, phone numbers, etc. It even exists in my own phone between the lines 908-4947. This is not a shameful plug or parody of the new Dr. Pepper commercials or the next Jim Carrey movie. THIS IS REAL LIFE PEOPLE. I just wanted to warn you, bloggers, because I love you all, and I don't want you to befall the same fate as me.

Take Home Points:
1. Don't cheat on your barber. It costs alot. It costs about $48.00.
2. Don't be that guy that spends more on a haircut than a girl.
3. Don't entirely trust people with two first names.