Is It Too Much To Ask To Get A Half Decent Haircut For Once In My Life?

OLD -- Smitty4/16/2014 6:40 PM

So this is where we’re at in life. Getting the ears lowered (has that ever been used by anyone born after WWII?) is an imminent necessity. I mean, look at this mess. That’s the definition of a salad that needs to be sent back to the kitchen. No dressing can subdue this anarchy of lettuce. Which is odd because the gravitational pull from that planet resting on my shoulders should keep everything in check.

I know I’m in need a trim once every 2 months or so, but I’m always scarred shitless. Almost every haircut I’ve received since moving back to Philly has been more of a slaughter than Hotel Rwanda. Just look at this last one.

That’s a straight massacre. It would look better if I gave a drunk chimp without limps a pair of pinking sheers and tell him to go to town. But I discovered it’s not solely recently I’ve been getting butchered. Batting way below the Mendoza line when it comes to lifetime haircut percentage. How is that even possible? Look at these disaster zones:

Eye of the tiger, heart of a champion, hair of some marsupial. Thing seriously needs to be shot and killed before it gives someone rabies. Wouldn’t be surprised to see it fly off and try to get some numbers like in a damn Old Spice commercial. Mother must have been mopping the floors with that thing.

Blue steel like you read about. Too bad the head makes me look like a pumpkin pie hair cutted freak. And unless you’re Lloyd Christmas on the way to Aspen, that’s never a good thing.

The mushroom (or bowl cut, if you will). The staple of suburban ’90’s kids. Shame that atomic blast couldn’t singe off the uni.

Now I’m not picky. The only time I comb my hair and not wear jeans/mesh shorts is for weddings and funerals, if that. I don’t even shampoo more than twice a week. But for some reason I can’t get a good look on this cranium. So here’s what we do:

I’ve spent wayyyy too much time and money in this traditional, corporate haircuttery industry. And I don’t think I’ve got the chops for an old school, hood barbershop in Philly outside of watching a scene in Coming To America. Plus if you’re a male and pay more than $20 for a haircut you’re a certified chump (or smart). So it’s time we go a different route. Do we either A) Get a random drunk Stoolie to cut the hair or, B) Let the locks flow till Memorial Day…and then most likely get a random drunk Stoolie to do the deed. Either or, not going to end up any worse than it is now or has ever been. Time’s yours.

Vote 1 for Option A Of Most Likely Getting Staples In The Head or 10 for Option B Of Sweating My Dick Off For A Couple Months, Then Getting Staples In The Head: