Hello, someone.
So I got a haircut yesterday. You’re right, that is the most interesting thing you’ve read today. Anyway, I walk in, [Note: I just did some quick research to see if I could say “I walked right in and sat right down,” but, alas, that is the jingle for the slightly shoddier low-budget haircut joint.] and I stroll on up to the computer, just like every other time. They take my name, and tell me it will be “just one minute.”
I had already mentally prepared to spend 5-plus minutes perusing the internet and trick or tweeting on my phone, so their illusion of speed did not phase me. As I will still trying to determine the appropriate complimentary and/or supplementary angles for my wallet, butt, and the old plastic chair, the greeter lady informed me that she was sorry, but it would take a little longer than they thought.
Fast-forward five minutes. In fact, go ahead and fast forward far enough to where you are in a world where the phrase “fast forward” garners only blank stares because the audience you are speaking to has never fast-forwarded anything. It’s a blu-ray world, people. Time to part with the Betamax. Anyway, similar to the night before Christmas…
All the children were nestled all scared in their chairs
While slightly inebriated women ran sharp implements through their hair.
On second thought, I might just wear a kerchief or even a cap.
Because that lady with the scissors redefines a deathtrap.
When from behind the colored hair gel, there arose such a clatter
Clippers were dropped so all could help in the matter.
The most experienced stylist spoke with such candor
“Who [on God’s green earth] is Loren Sanders?”
While slightly inebriated women ran sharp implements through their hair.
On second thought, I might just wear a kerchief or even a cap.
Because that lady with the scissors redefines a deathtrap.
When from behind the colored hair gel, there arose such a clatter
Clippers were dropped so all could help in the matter.
The most experienced stylist spoke with such candor
“Who [on God’s green earth] is Loren Sanders?”
“That’s me.” Yeah, go figure, the name in the computer was the one guy who was in the waiting area. It was at this point she began to explain that once she had a lady named Charlie who was waiting when she called for a man named Charlie to get a haircut. I honestly enjoy it when people screw up my name or are certain they heard it incorrectly. It’s fun to see how people respond.
Like the lady at the dollar store a couple of years back… They don’t let you take the carts out of the dollar store. In fact, they attached poles to each cart to prevent anyone who believes the whole “4-on-the-floor” thing from rolling them out the door. So, this older lady asked me to help her get her bags from the door to her car. As I was going back in after saving the world, she said, “Now what’s your name again?” As if I had told her before, I replied, “Loren.” “Loren?” “Yes ma’am.” “Wow. That must have been rough.”
What’s a story without a tangent or two? I’ll tell you what it is, it’s a circle, and you’re stuck going round and round and not really having any idea what you’re missing out on outside your circle world. So my court-appointed hairdresser quickly changes the subject as we walk to her chair. She tells me they got robbed, and the thieves took the computer. She then begins cutting my hair. Don’t worry, she wasn’t there when they robbed the place.
I corroborated her story by looking around to make sure no criminals’ bodies were strewn about the place with major head wounds. She started with the clippers. I guess she was making sure the guard she had put on them would stay in place, but from the cut-ee’s perspective, it felt more like the potential for intracranial [Note: Bill Gates corrected my typing of “intercranial”. I would think “intracranial would be between craniums, but I’m no scientist.] bleeding.
She then moved in on the back of my neck. She worked on it. She moved my head. She worked on it some more. Moved my head some more. It wasn’t until my chin was resting on my chest and she pushed my head down that I offered up a little resistance. “Sorry, honey, but you’ve got a tornado back here.” Good to know. A few gray hairs and a natural disaster never hurt anyone. I still don’t know what that means beyond 3 minutes of trimming.
Overall, it was a good trip. $12 well spent… At least I hope it was $12. Their computer got stolen and she had to give me a paper receipt. I’m no expert on internal controls, but that could have been a very expensive low-budget haircut.
