But that sort of motivates me not to bother cutting my hair in spring, knowing that I'll be chopping it all off in summer.
But I was tired of my wife's snooty hairdresser, and went into this new place, a chain popping up around town that has a sort of a funky Southwest, Freebirds burritos kind of a vibe if you know what I mean.
I was looking particularly gnarly, unshaven, scraggly, sandwich sauce on my shirt, when I walked in. I woke up with this headache. The haircut I had been longing for was the only useful thing I could think of to do with myself besides spilling a sandwich on me.
I took one look at the the tattooed young barberess and said "don't restrain yourself. Make me look like a Republican". She blinked for a second, then said "oh, sure, you want the Uptighty Whitey." I said I reckoned that I did, "The Uptighty Whitey is just exactly the thing" I allowed.
She said "I'll have you lookin' like Dan Quayle in no time," and I sort of shrugged. Haven't laid eyes on the fellow in years, but he was always kind of good looking that I remember. Unstressed fellow. Golfer. You know.
About three quarters of the way through it I allowed as how it was working. "I am trying to think of a small country to invade" I told her.
As a first timer I got a delicious shampoo, head massage, hot towel on the face and shoulder massage for free, normally $3 extra. Floyd's, the barber shop is called. But it's nothing like Mayberry. Good haircut too, for a UyWy. I recommend the place.