Nice Haircut Dude!

I cut my own hair.

Yesterday I cut it badly. Badly, I tell ya.

Look over on the left at the picture of NY Yankees, Alex Rodriquez and Derek Jeter. Alex and Derek make millions per year playing baseball. They can afford a really good barber I presume. That cut however is worn by a lot of the Yankees players. In fact I call it the ‘Yankees cut.’

How many of you idjits saw the movies ‘Barber Shop’ and ‘Barber Shop II’? Remember all the banter among the barbers and clients in the movie?. I used to get my hair cut at an ‘almost the same kind of place’ barber shop in downtown Fort Worth. All the barbers were African-American like in the movie, except my barbershop barbers were all ancient men. It didn’t stop the constant ‘booolshit’ that went down though. It’s an environment where any one-up comment you might luck out with is soon in second place. I miss the downtown barber shop. But I quit going because it was inconvenient trying to find a parking place downtown and if I didn’t have any meetings downtown I would have to make a special trip.

And….I learned to cut my own hair. I’m not gonna tell you how I learned just because I am probably fortunate if you are still reading at this point. The cliff notes go like this; if you want your hair short like a Yankees cut you can do it yourself with clippers and guards. I’m really good enough at it. In fact you are the first people I have told and several have asked where I get my hair cut. I lie and say “downtown.” Oops I think I just admitted to lying. Deal with it.

The first time I ever cut it I was really nervous. I carefully put the guards on and checked the depth of the cut, followed by close looks in the mirror. Repeat the scene again and again and 14 hours later I had done it! After three years I have reached the point of great confidence and dexterity. I can do it in five minutes now, just like the ol sex life.

Until yesterday. Bear in mind that my ‘make a living’ work involves a lot of numbers, equations, calculations and meticulous detail.

I left my work station and went into the back, taking a break from the work to cut my hair.

It went like this:

Got out the clippers.

Thought about the numbers and calculations on my computer screen.

Stood in the bathtub looking into the mirror, clippers in hand.

Thought about the numbers and calculations on my computer screen.

Raised the clippers to the side of my head with the ease of confidence I had earned over the past three years.

Thought about ‘girls on top sex’ with Reese Witherspoon. Imagined her breasts bobbing up and down and the smile on her face.

Started the clippers and ran them over the right side of my head.

Noticed a large white patch of scalp in the mirror on the right side of my head.

Quit thinking about Reese and her twins.

Cursed a nasty blue streak that would embarrass the actors on Deadwood.

No guard on the clippers.

It’s not supposed to look like that.

That’s not a Yankees cut.

Pondering what to do now.

The suggestion to grow a brain will be considered rude. Across Dallas-Fort Worth friends that know me well and refer to me as the ‘absent minded professor’ are laughing their asses off reading this.

That’s OK my friends, your day will come too.

Any suggestions?

Maybe a Yankees cap?

Next best thing I suppose.