Thursday, November 04, 2004

Haircut Awkwardo!

So, after several disappointing haircuts, I decided to try to find a new stylist. My roommate had advocated a small barbershop that is much closer to my home than the place I usually go, so I was down to give it a try.

I show up at this place and enter. There's not a soul in sight. I walk around towards the back, ready to yell for some service, when one of the stylists/barbers appears. She was about 5'4" and appeared to be in her mid-30's. Her hair was a big yuppie, soccer-mom-of-yesteryear do. It looked to me like it had been inspired by a MadTV wig worn when one of the females is playing some middle-aged lamer.

She asks if she can help me, and I explain I need a haircut (actually, "explain" might be too strong of a word since I flatly said, "I need a haircut."

We communicate enough that I *thought* she knew how I wanted my hair cut.

Awkward silence falls.

I notice she is leaving me facing toward the mirror as she does her "magic". I watch her. She doesn't seem to notice. If she did notice, she was completely devoid of all social skills. If her facial expressions were representative of her emotional state during my haircut, her demeanor seemed to randomly change between challenged, frustrated, confused, remorseful, and gassy.

I began to ponder if she and the other "stylist" that eventually emerged were really holding up the place and thought it would be easier to give me a shitty haircut and send me on my way than to try make their grand getaway with me there to witness.

I figured my theory, as entertaining as it was to me, couldn't have been true due to my stylist's just-barely-adequate skills with the shop's customer database.

"I am very tired today", she says, breaking a uncomfortable silence with something I found less comfortable (i.e. small talk).

"Yeah, me too," I reply. Ooh, that's good. I am such a people person.

"Trick-or-treat is over", she says.

"WTF?!", my internal monologue blurts. I think in reality I made some kind of guttural noise and trailed off. Like I said, people person.

"Do you have any kids?", she politely, yet awkwardly inquires.

"No", I say flatly, as I am not particularly interested in hearing about hers.

She doesn't speak to me again until it is time to pay her. So I am back watching her weirdo facial expressions.

I begin to notice a familiar annoyance of eighties music, but I am not placing it right away.

Oh, shit! Not that! It was "Hip to be Square" by Huey Lewis.

My brain was being overrun with sound bytes from David Cross's bit on "Shut Up, You Fucking Baby" about marketing companies making up products we don't need.

The example he gave was Squagels. That's right, square bagels. David's story had the Squagel commercials set to the Huey Lewis song.

It was all I could do to keep from laughing out loud and making this weird interaction several times weirder.

I manage to compose myself and weather the rest of this ordeal. I pay. I leave.

The next morning I get up for work, and during the part of my preparation ritual that involves doing something with my God forsaken hair, I realize "Yup, this sure is the shittiest haircut I have ever had." She had butchered me. It was way too short on top. She cut my cowlick short, even though I told her to be careful of it. She managed to blend my sides and the top so nicely, that I constantly look like I spent that last several hours wearing a fucking visor on my forehead. Like, low forehead. I have a fucking line circling my head about an inch underneath my hairline.

I think she was fucked up. Oklahoma does have a lot of meth labs, you know.

3 Comments:

At 5:31 PM, Blogger masman21 said...

My good friend, may I give what may be sound advice? Try a real sallon. Might be kind of metrosexual, but well worth it. Considering the mullet to decent hairstyle ratio in Oklahoma, it's best to go somewhere a bit more upscale. She sounds like she may have been coming down from the meth if she wasn't babbling on about her third baby's daddy just getting out of jail and how she had to get a restraining order against him. And that her current boyfriend/6th baby's daddy, though a bouncer at the local strip club she use to work at, is on parole otherwise he would take care of the former. Speaking of Squagels, I recently bought David's DVD and it has a lot of references to SUYFB, in fact the company he "works" for fires him partially for the Squagel idea.

 
At 10:16 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

She actually said "Trick or Treat is over"?

If the lady cutting my hair said that to me I would be worried that she would follow it up by jabbing the scissors in my eye and stuffing some of my own hair down my throat.

That's almost like a line from a Schwarzenegger movie.

/Austrian Accent ON

"Trick or treat is over!"

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

/Austrian Accent OFF

 
At 11:36 AM, Blogger Jim B said...

Yes, she indeed did say "Trick-or-treat is over".

I never really thought of it as a foreboding one-liner in some blood bath flick, but I guess it works.

Her choice of verbiage reminded me of ignorant children referring to things by some association or characteristic rather than the name of the actual thing. In grade school, I remember some dumb kid saying "Trick-or-treat is almost here!" I wanted to punch him and explain Halloween was almost here and then it would be time to trick-or-treat.

I am sure I could come up with more similar examples of people's errant nomenclature, but I am lazy and will leave that as an exercise to the reader.

 

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