Splitting Hairs...

Yesterday I got a haircut. I’m really lazy about haircuts, so it had been a while, and I wanted to clean up around the ears and down around the back of the neck etc. My usual dude was not working, my barber from Bahrain, so I was assigned a guy at random. I’m always a little skeptical of whether these guys actually know what they’re doing, and this guy was pretty weak on the ole English language, but when a haircut costs you less than 5 bucks, whatareyagonnado?

So, I was sitting in the chair, not really paying attention, still kind of basking in that nice feeling of someone else washing your hair, when I looked up and saw him in the mirror with his scissors paused in mid-air. He made a motion toward the middle of my hair and then stopped and said, "Excuse me sir, Haircut or trim?"

"Trim, Trim, TRIM!" I ejaculated emphatically (that being my preferred method), my face breaking out in an instant sweat of panic. The world is not yet ready for a short haired Dave.

Sometimes, you just never know how close you are to disaster… or a new haircut.

And this whole thing reminds me of how my Dad used to tell people that he wasn’t getting his hair cut any longer… he always got it cut shorter. Yup, perhaps now you can start stringing together the upbringing that lead to my wonky sense of humour. My own joke along these lines goes: "I don’t drink anymore… of course, I don’t drink any less either."