Haircuts are such a hassle. I guess they,re probably not a hassle for everybody, but they,re definitely a hassle for me because I,m stubborn and poor and refuse to pay somebody to cut my hair. I bet for most people they,re enjoyable. They get to sit in a chair and relax while some weirdo moves razor sharp pieces of metal just inches from their eyes and most valuable veins and arteries. Then they get to go home looking nice and different. It sounds a lot better than what I do.
I stand shivering in my bathroom for forty minutes while I chop crooked lines into my head and cover myself and the floor with millions of hairs that I then have to meticulously clean up afterward. You,d think that a normal vacuum would be able to do the job, but you,re wrong. Those hair pieces fly into every cranny, every nook, every hole. You have to get on your hands and knees and carefully pluck them one by one from their hiding places.
George FitzGerald - Fading Love
Then, after all of that, I don,t look nice or different. I look like I just gave myself a haircut. Everybody can tell. Everybody knows I cut my own hair. There is no way a professional, somebody who does it for a living, would allow such a strangely diagonal neckline. Is that what that,s called? A ,,neckline,,? I don,t know. I don,t know because I,m not a professional. The bottom line is that no matter how many mirrors I use, the back of my neck always looks bad. That,s the price you pay for not paying a price.
No comments:
Post a Comment