Haircut redux

For those of you dying to see the new do...

Gotta shorten those sideburns. They're so...90210.



Of course, I've been thinkin' of growing a mustache...

Gay cats

I saw this bumper sticker on a car yesterday.

Cute.


The car owner also had this one. So naturally I was trying to figure out what it meant. Does the driver mean:
A) I like rainbows and cats
B) I'm gay and I like cats
C) I like gay cats
D) I like gay cats that eat bugs

Why do they make these things sooooo hard?

[ to myself] "envision whirled peas, envision whirled peas, envision..."

A Nod Where a Nod is Due

What language do they speak in Brazil? Spanish or Portuguese? Seems like I remember that the Pope divided the New World between Spain and Portugal a long time ago, and Brazil ended up on the Portuguese side.

Anyway, I wanted everyone (my peeps) to notice my new artwork on the sidebar, "The Lament for Icarus", by Herbert James Draper. Having flown too close to the Sun once myself, I can relate. I was cruising the ol' sitemeter one day with nothing better to do, and came across a lurker link that led me to Farrell Releituras . From what I gather, Mr. Farrell does artwork reproductions. (When does artwork become a Masterpiece?)

I knew I was the bomb with all of the artists down at SCAD, starving or not so starving, but now it looks like I've gone international. Word! Or as they say in Brazil, palavra!

It's kind of fun (and scary) to see who's visiting your blog, dontcha think?

Anyway, I've been a big fan of John W Waterhouse. Now I shall add Mr. Draper to my list.



And though Icarus wasn't quite an angel...

If you had not have fallen
Then I would not have found you
Angel flying too close to the ground
And I patched up your broken wing
And hung around a while
Tried to keep your spirits up
While you were feelin' down
I knew someday that you would fly away
For love's the greatest healer to be found
So leave me if you need to
I will still remember
Angel flying too close to the ground

Evil Social Experiment Revealed

As part of a 10 year study to test the limits of MIO's politeness, I have had inflicted on me the worst hair cut ever. Okay, the worst haircut of my adult life. I'm absolutely sure that she will be forced to bite her tongue completely off this time. She's managed to remain mum though all of the others, but this time she is sure to crack.

Maybe there is a New Year's resolution in here just dying to get out. I took the man-cub to a local hair cutting establishment this week (not my usual joint) to get a cut. Father/son bonding I never had. My father (who I feared growing up) dished out the crew cuts until I was about eight. This ingrained in me a sort of somber acceptance of haircuts. Sit there and be quiet, and maybe you won't lose an ear. Anyway, the boy hasn't been scarred like me...yet. So he's as happy as a clam in the chair.

Rule 1: Never get a haircut from a bald person. Corollary: Especially not a bald chick.

Here's the resolution thing: I'm too polite (timid, lily-livered, yellow) to complain about bad service lest I hurt the provider's feelings. I need to do better.

Anyway, the aforementioned bald chick asks what I want for the boy.

"A little boy haircut". Obvious, right?

"Three or four?" Baldy asks. "

"Uh , four". A number 4 comb on the clippers equates to one inch, I think to myself.

Conservative enough. She made a pass up the back of his neck. A large glob of hair fell to the floor. Panic knocked on my door. She turned his chair so I could see and approve the result. It didn't look too bad. A little shorter than I had hoped, but... I nodded. Half his head was shorn in 2 more passes. It was then I wished I could take it all back. It looked terrible.

My son is adorable (not just the biased opinion of a father) so he is still good looking with a bad hair cut. And his hair grows like weeds, so it want be too short for ...uh... long. And it makes him look a lot like his biological brother, which is kind of neat.

I wish that was the end of my story....

I had already announced we were both getting our hair cut. What do I do? Fake an excuse to leave now? Let baldy get her hands on me? In the spirit on solidarity with my hairless son, and not wanting to hurt BC's feelings, I climb in the chair.

"Do you want the same thing?", BC asks.

"Nooooo!", I scream silently. "Uh, no. I usually do a 4 on the sides and a six on top."

I guess what I assume about the hair cutting business is that unless you direct the person with the sharp tools to make a style change, they will just shorten everything about the same amount. I usually co to a sleepy little barbershop in the sleepy little town where I live. There are two chairs. Mr. Blalock operates the closest chair, and Sonny operates the second. Mr. Blalock (and even after 13 years, I don't know his first name) has the full mac-daddy barber chair; Sonny has a make-do wannabe chair that you would think was just there temporarily while the real barber chair gets repaired. But no, it's been there as long as I've been going there. (Perhaps I should save the subject of my barbershop for another post.) Anyway, I usually walk in , comment on the weather, and plop down in the seat. "Shorten it up all over?" Sonny asks. "Sure", I retort with a keen since of brevity. That's all that's required at my barber shop.

Evidently, this particular... ahem... stylist ... didn't subscribe to the same school of hair cutting etiquette... implied direction?.... Subtle communication?

"Oh, the humanity...the humanity" - Herb Morrison
"The horror...the horror." - Colonel Walter E. Kurtz

Okay, if you had never met me, maybe it wouldn't be so bad. I'm sure there are people that get their hair cut like this on purpose. (So what if they are guards at some Turkish prison?) But it will take some getting use to... at least by me.