Thread: haircut

Haircuts for guys are way different than for you females out there. My hair will always grow, and I will do nothing about it until the wind blows strong enough to make it stick out at weird angles. So, this week was weird angles week.

First things first: I’m cheap on my haircuts. I’ve paid $14, $13, $12, and they all look the same. Shorter. So I go to a place for $9 haircuts on Tuesdays, normally $13. I never get the same person twice. I know them as “the funny black woman,” “trailer trash complainer woman,” and “smells like BO and cigarettes woman.” This time I got “army dude.” I’ve never had him before.

I have been there enough times to have them write my preference into the computer. A #4 razor around the bottom and sides, scissors on top, not too short around the top due to cowlicks. The #4 razor is the right length, and it gets me out of the chair in about 15 minutes, because they can cut half of my head in record shearing time. The scissors on top reduce the chance of flat-top.

Army dude reads the directions. I proceed to take my glasses off and hold them in my lap. This means I can see a blob shaped object in the mirror that must be my head. This also means I can’t see how short he is shaping my hair. He does the #4. A bit higher than usual. He does the scissors. I’m thinking DONE! He pulls out a #3 and starts making the sides of my head a little less frizzy, I guess. He pulls off the top of the #3, which I think makes that a #0, and continues on the sides. He pulls out a straight razor and finishes the sides off. I probably should have said something around the #3, but he looked really intent, and was kinda big, so I stared blindly at the blob in the mirror, and the blob’s sides were getting slimmer and slimmer.

Then comes the question. “How does that look?” I pull out the glasses and scream, “WHOA!” It’s shorter than I have ever, ever had it in my life. Unless you count that time I cut my own bangs, and the barber looked at my mom, like-what have you been experimenting with on your son.

Army dude senses he may have gone too short. As I am paying my $9, he asks, “Do you want me to change the directions in the computer?” NO! The directions did not involve a straight razor and a crew cut.

My first student of the day saluted me.

The third student of the day asked me if I was going bald.

The fourth student of the day said, (I am not making this up) “Your forehead is Really Big!”

My wife on day one said, “It will grow back.” On day two, “You get what you pay for.”

roflmao!!! as I wipe the tears away I am sending you a tweleve gift. USE IT!!!

(Sue tries to find the silver lining while giggling)

Poor Pianoman - but I'm sure it looks better than this, right?

Oh my! Yes, it does. Nice grumpy face on him, though. My expression was more like stunned.

Thanks for the dollar, J!!

(((((pianoman)))))

Hair is important stuff. Take some vitamins and it'll grow faster.

toooooo funny

I will be sure to show this thread to my wife...she of the "hair salon" bidness!!

pac

growing out nicely yet pianoman?

Why yes! The twollars have inspired my hair to regain its "rich" natural shape.

My head is way less pointy! I'm still trying to get used to using only a pea-sized drop of shampoo instead of that glob from before.

If it's any consolation, I quit going to hairdressers the day I went for my prom "do" and they made me look like Tammy Wynette with a dozen cinnamon buns smack on top surrounded by what I can only describe as giant curls made of plastic resin. I'd asked for a simple, pulled-back Audrey Hepburn topknot to go with my simple silver/white sheath and floor-length coat. I looked like I'd stuck my head into the Country-Western Star machine and it got turned up to "Dolly on a Bad Day" level. And what was WORSE, was when I got home and tried to comb it out, I couldn't get a comb or brush THROUGH that hair-sprayed mess until I soaked my head (LITERALLY) in a tub of water for 10 minutes! The pulling--the tugging--the CRYING--I can't even describe the horror.

From then on, I learned the techniques of cutting, curling, and "doing" my self, and never looked back. If you know what your numbers are, buy yourself a good set of pro clippers and learn to do it yourself--or teach your wife. THey will pay for themselves in one or two uses.

If you don't carry the genetic ability to actually DO your own hair, then you should immediately cultivate the "annoying customer" gene (which everyone has--sometimes it's just latent,) and keep your glasses ON, and ask when they do anything at all--"Now what are you doing? What number are you using? Are you following the instructions?" every single time they do anything. They will very soon follow your script to the letter and never vary from it just to shut you up.

And keep this in mind too--(not to denigrate the profession in ANY way--my mother was a hairdresser)--hair cutting, especially when it's men's cuts with a clipper script available--is not rocket science. There should have been no variation from your instructions with "army dude". You can, and sometimes should, complain when you do NOT get what you pay for. A 15-minute haircut for $9 is a $36/hour JOB.

When you go to a styling Salon (Big "S") you expect to pay more, and you SHOULD get more--more advice, more care, more SKILL---but these places like Army Dude works for do not train their stylists to do that sort of service. They get them fresh from styling school, most of the time. And Hairstyling is sort of like doctoring--you know what they call the guy who came in last in his class in medical school? "Doctor."

Good luck next time.

lol CK.

My husband's barber continues to cut as long as there is conversation. On one particularly memorable afternoon, he walked in the back door with hair so short I could see his scalp beneath. It went something like this:

"Shut up."

"I didn't say anything."

"Shut up anyway."

"What was it this time?"

"The real estate market tanked and he was compelled to tell me about every one of his rental properties and their net worth."

*snicker... "Mmm."

"Shut up, all right?"

"I didn't say anything! You might want to consider sun screen, though."

"SHUT UP!"


My husband has also learned to avoid conversations about divorce, teenagers and their 'ridiculous' affinity for Ugg Aussie boots, moms-who-let-their-kids-run-free-in-the-barbershop, the many uses of Rolo candies, people who went to our high school - I mean: EVER, and all the gross things one might find in a truck load of hard, shredded mulch.