Today is Monday, which means it's my one day off all week. When you only have one day off every week, you start to have unreasonable expectations for how relaxing, or productive, or decadent (and usually all of the above) it'll be. When it finally comes, though, you stay in bed until about 11, make yourself a frozen pizza which you eat in your pajamas while you try in vain to catch up with the Internet, which was chugging right along the whole time that you were otherwise occupied (it waits for no one). Then, as you start to feel your day slip away from you, and a dull disquietude begins to set in about everything that needs to get done on your first day back at work, you decide to do something.
So today, I went to get my haircut, even though I just did so a few weeks ago, and I usually wait about 2 months. The place makes me happy, though. I could swear I've written about it on here before, but all I can find is a mention of the fact that it costs $10, so here goes. There are 2 guys of indeterminate Eastern European descent who own and operate the place. As far as I can tell, nobody else works there, period. It's often busy, but if there's nobody in there when you arrive, they can usually be found sitting in the barber's chairs facing each other, but very possibly not talking. When you get there, one will get up and motion for you to take his seat, and the other will walk over to the radio (which has been off) and turn it on to the oldies station.
They don't talk much, aside from muttering to each other in their native tongue when someone they don't like walks by (that's what I figure it's about, anyway), but my guy will usually ask me "how are you, my friend?" and then ask if I want the same thing as last time. Today, though, he and I were the only 2 in there, so we chatted a bit more. Even though I said I was fine when he asked, he must've sensed that I was a bit stressed, and tried to comfort me a bit by reminding me that I have my health. Christopher Reeves, he told me, who was a billionaire, fell off a horse once, and then all his money didn't matter. He was SuperMAN (emphasis on the "man" syllable) and it didn't matter.
So yeah. I went to get a haircut because I knew it would make me feel better, and it did. Now I just need to cajole Amy into fixing it for me tonight so nobody will make fun of me tomorrow.
10 March 2009
- To the alien race who will, in the distant future, use this blog and nothing else to learn about those who once walked the earth, fret not. February 2009 happened, despite a complete lack of evidence to be found herein. Also, humanity's greatest accomplishment was catching this on film.
- From sometime in early 2000 (I think) until December 2008, I wore an earring in the cartilage of my left ear. It got pulled out (not ripped through my ear, just pulled out) during a haircut at my favorite $10 barber, and I never bothered to find it and/or replace it. I've been meaning to write about this for literally 3 months, and now that I've finally typed it, I've half a mind to delete it because, holy shit, I haven't written anything for months on here and this is the best I have?
- Tonight I was teaching and one of the writing questions prompted me to start making the following table on the board. I can't be the only person in the world who thinks I'm funny, but I was certainly the only person in that room.
3 or more things
- Every eight or nine months, I grow a pretty decent beard (mostly because I get busy and blow off shaving). And every single time, when it finally becomes time to shave it off, I have an uncontrollable urge to give myself an awesome 'shache. So usually I do and I take a picture, and then finish the job. I've (almost) never had the nerve to actually leave the house like this.
Posted by Mike McClenathan at 23:53