The life of a hair cut tramp.
I got a very creepy hair cut today. I went to my usual place, the Hair Cuttery, but got the one guy that I pray I never get when I go in there. You may remember from "
Creepy Poems" the one other time I had Elliott cut my hair. He looks a little different now, one more facial piercing, his hair is platinum blond now instead of orange. He kind of resembles a lost member of Motley Crew, or at least the guy who put all that makeup on Vince Neil.
Elliott called my name and I walked back to his chair. I sit down and he says "Hello, my name is Elliott. How may I service you." Already, I'm creeped out, but I try to forget it. I tell him how I want my hair cut and he goes at it. He tries to make small talk, which I'm horrible at when I'm nervous, so I shoot out a lot of one word answers that don't make a lot of sense:
"So do you live in the neighborhood?""Yes"
"How long have you lived in Chicago?""Two"
"Where are you originally from?""Down"
"So you don't have to work today, huh? What do you do?""Job...Travel...Off"
He eventually gives up and we move on to the post-trim, pre-cut, shampoo time. I lay on those weird chairs with my head in a sink looking up at Elliott has he tells me how I have really pretty hair. I just sit there, uncomfortable while he massages my scalp with soapy hands.
When we get back to the chair for round two he tells me how much he likes my flip-flops. "Are they from the GAP," he asks? "Yeah," I respond, wishing I shopped at Farm & Fleet instead of the GAP. "I thought so," he says, "they're so bright and colorful." Then he goes on and on about how a couple years ago men never wore flip flops; how they never showed their toes. And now they're everywhere. He just loves to see on the fun flip-flop designs and see everyone's feet.
It's at this point that I'm nodding along but secretly thinking:
Should I make a run for it, just get out now? No I can't. My hair's half cut and he has scissors...what if he attacks me. Just keep nodding, it'll be over soon.
He gets back to cutting my hair and finishes. He asks me if it's the right length, and even though it wasn't as short as I wanted, I say it's perfect...just so I can get out of there.
He asks if I want another wash or some product in my hair...I cut him off with a louder than appropriate "NO." I pay, and leave...it's finally over.
This little escapade was probably not as bad as I think. I mean the guy was just trying to make conversation, and he was nice...I guess. But this is what happens when you don't have a steady barber. You go around from stylist to stylist, spending 20 minutes with them, and then you never talk to them again. And how awkward is it when you bump into them again...jeesh. It makes me long for the days when I had a steady barber. The security of knowing who's hands would handle my follicles. The unspoken bond that we'd have...and how I would feel so horrible when I would let someone else cut my hair. I'd be riddled with guilt for weeks, unable to sleep. Sure it was an adventure having someone new, but was it worth it in the end? Knowing that I'd betrayed my barber. I'd go back and get the "It's been a while...you seeing someone else?" joke from them, but deep down I knew that they knew. We both knew.
I need to get things back on track, finally settle down with one barber, and stop these shenanigans once and for all. Not only for my own good, but for my hair.
I just had the craziest dream
I'm running through what appears to be an airport or train station. Everything is very dark and industrial looking. There are crowds of people that I'm fighting through to reach my destination. Then it hits me like Ike Turner, I need to use the bathroom...bad. My eyes dart around in search of the facilities. I follow these signs through a maze of hallways and people, and then I see the restroom door. The little man figure seems to be welcoming me in to the oasis of relief lying just behind the door. I burst through, and everything is full; there are lines 5 or 6 people deep at each "station." So run across the hall to the women's bathroom...same story, longer lines. Frantically, I run out; the feeling is growing exponentially worse. Just then I hear "Last Call for train 402" over the loud speaker...my train, I have to catch it. So I sprint to the tracks and leap at the last second to squeeze through the doors as they are closing. A brief moment of relief until I realize I still need to 'go.' There are no bathrooms on this train...the feeling is brewing inside of me, beads of sweat are running down my forehead. It's happening whether I want it to or not, so I pry the door open a little bit, hold it there with my foot, and let loose. I bellow a huge sigh of relief, the initial feeling is so good, I almost forget where I am. I look around and in slow motion I see the faces of the other passengers. Some were shocked, others appalled and mortified, In the distance a baby is crying; a woman is pointing and laughing (which I didn't appreciate.)
It's finally over. I let the door close and restore the situation down below. I turn around and see everyone just staring at me. I feel something in my back pocket that wasn't there before, so I pull it out. It's a packet of
Mentos. I pop one out, and display the package to everyone on the train, then they all smile and laugh and give me the thumbs up. A voice from nowhere says "Mentos, the Freshmaker!"
The end.
I'm pretty glad that I'm not really aware of what's going on in my subconscious, otherwise it'd freak me out.
Are you a nerd, geek, or dork?
I ran across this test on the world wide web. I thought it was pretty funny, and pretty accurate.
Here's a quick definition for the record:
A Nerd is someone who is passionate about learning/being smart/academia.
A Geek is someone who is passionate about some particular area or subject, often an obscure or difficult one.
A Dork is someone who has difficulty with common social expectations/interactions.
Here's how I scored:
Joe Normal43 % Nerd, 26% Geek, 26% Dork
This is not to say that you don't have some Nerd, Geek or Dork inside of you--we all do, and you can see the percentages you have right above. This is just to say that none of those qualities stand out so much as to define you. Sure, you enjoy an episode of Star Trek now and again, and yeah, you kinda enjoyed a few classes back in the day. And, once in a while, you stumble while walking down the street even though there was nothing there to cause you to trip. But, for the most part, you look and act fairly typically, and aren't much of an outcast.
Find out what you are here
The Highest Man in the Land
With the passing of Chief Justice Rehnquist, I've decided that I am the perfect candidate to succeed him. Here's just a brief list of my qualifications.
1. I watch A LOT of Law & Order, so I've definitely learned how to handle myself in a courtroom
2. I have a
friend in law school, so anything I don't know, he can tell me.
3. I look really good in black, and I've already sewn the yellow lines on the sleeves of my college graduation robe
4. I totally had Clarence Thomas's back during that whole Anita Hill thing.
5. I'm a big fan of that type of job security
6. I'm always right
If you need more reasons, I'm sure my campaign manager, Shablizz, will be happy to talk to you. You can reach him late nights on Power 92, Number One in the Streets!
The people of Ohio never fail to disappoint me
Ohio has produced some very bright, and influential people including the Wright Brothers, Thomas Edison, and Neil Armstrong. Unfortunately, I didn't have the privilege of meeting any great Ohioans this weekend...instead I met what could be the cast of a low budget version of the Real World.
Everyone was there. Let's start with the high school football star whose biggest moment of his life was the playoff win against his rival high school. Most of his sentences started out with "Man, remember that game against Valley Forge..." And then there was the counterpart to the reminiscent jock...the bitter basketball girl who didn't get enough playing time. 20 minutes I sat and listened to her talk about how she blames the coach for her lack of success as a basketball player, how she wasn't the favorite and thus less talented players got to play over her, and how she's developed a disorder where on the first Tuesday of the month she eats nothing but Pineapple and Easy Cheese to help numb the pain. (ok I made that last part up)
Then there was the engaged couple who were very fun and in love at the beginning of the night, but after a few drinks, they were screaming at each other and she was throwing his ring across the bar. Another couple, this one married, was celebrating that tonight it wasn't them fighting, followed by a high five. Fast forward an hour later and they're standing on opposite ends of the bar sending smoldering looks each other's way.
Then came the finale and my favorite part of the night. We were just getting ready to leave when a man in a cheap suit approaches the table and starts commenting how nice two of the people looked together. They weren't dating, but decided to play along hoping it was drunken babble and he would go away. Instead he pulls a jewelry box out of his pocket and tries to sell us quite possibly the ugliest piece of jewelry I've ever seen. He notices us fighting back the laughter and leaves. Then, THEN we walk outside and see the biggest spectacle since the circus rolled through town. A man, well into his 30s was standing across the street in front of a closed storefront. He was dressed in an electric blue jumpsuit, horribly dyed blond hair, dancing to rap music blaring from a boombox on the ground next to him, and holding a cardboard sign made out of magic markers and glitter that said "Eminem is my daddy."
I'll let you digest that for a minute.
Being the sober guy out with drunks is sometimes annoying, sometimes entertaining, but this time, was definitely one of a kind.
