Well it was inevitable. As soon as I got off the train from Philadelphia, the first thing my mom said when she saw me was, "You're getting a haircut."
I don't know what it is, I just have this thing against haircuts. I loathe them. Something about having part of my body being cut off with a razor sharp scissor just doesn't sit right with me.
I know a lot of guys who go to "styling" parlors. When there they have a whole secret code they use with the "stylist" or as I heard them called once, "beuticians".
Person A - "Yes, I'd like a number 4 on the sideburns and a 'crazy Louey' for the top?"
Stylist - "Do you want a 'magic mountain'?"
Person A - "Yes, but only if its at medium strength. Also, make sure you sprendiferize it well."
Stylist - "You came to the right place. I'm the best sprendiferizer in the tri-state area."
Me on the other hand, I go to a barber shop. Yes, that's right. An old classic Italian barber shop. Yes, they do have the little red and blue swirly thing out front....yes there is not a single non-Italian under 50 barber in the place. It's a classic, you could take it right out of a movie.
Me - "Hey, howyoudoin?"
Barber - "Howyoudoin?"
Me - "I'm doin alright."
Barber - "So watcha want?"
Me - "Ehh, do a regular"
Barber - "How about them Jets?"
Me - "Heeeeeey."
Barber - "Heeeeeey fuh-ged-abow-it."
And so on until my hair looks nice again.
So how about the rest of yous, where do you get your hair cut?
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