Hair cut plus entertainment? Priceless.
I actually managed to get out and accomplish several things today, which is quite a feat considering the fact that my body has been ravaged and beaten down by aforementioned terrifying viral illness (common cold, my ass).
One thing I did was get my hair cut, because, quite frankly, I was beginning to look a little bit like a fraggle. I went to this new salon that just opened near my house because, well, anyone who wants to cut my hair for $8 is worth a shot. I'm not picky. Just hack that shit off please, is basically what I tell them. Honestly, I almost always cut my own hair (I have a real talent for it, if I'm being honest here), and everyone is always telling me they like my hair so either:
1. Everyone I know has been lying to me about the state of my hair for years.
or
2. If you have half a brain and half of your motor skills intact, cutting hair really isn't that difficult.
I'm gonna go with #2, and if I find out differently, I'm-a kick some ass, people. Don't delude me.
So there I was at the bargain basement of hair salons, and the lady cutting my hair throws me a racial slur, disguised in a compliment.
"You have beee-yooo-tiful hair. It is just. like. silk. Even for being colored."
What? You mean to tell me my hair color doesn't look natural? It's that obvious? Hell naw.
As I was paying for my discount cut, a Hispanic lady was entering the store with her husband. She walked up to the counter and said she would like a hair cut.
Bargain stylist: Ok, just for you, then?
Lady: And my husband, too.
Bargain stylist: What's his name?
Lady: (whispering) Englebert.
Bargain stylist: (Head cocked) What is it, now?
Lady: Engle.bert. Like Humperdinck? Oh god, I am so embeddest. I try to whisper, soddy.
Oh, man. That. poor. guy.