Oh man, I don't ever remember ice pissing me off this much before. I have errands to do, and the fricking ice is making it that much harder. It was here all weekend, and apparently for most of the week, too. Amongst a list of errands, I had to finally get the dreaded haircut. First off, I hate getting haircuts, yet I doom myself in life by preferring short hair. Basically, I don't like waiting, so I go right when the place opens. Also, since I'm a cheap bastard, I always get haircuts with coupons (Frank Barone: You throw out coupons? That's money!). And then there's the explanation of what I want done, I sit there, make small talk, and keep my eyes where they should be, and go through the exact same process since 1989. Well immediately, this busty lady barber starts talking about the Writer's Guild of America strike! Well let's see, apparently tall long-haired Swedish mutts wearing blue jeans and white Benjamin Moore paint T-shirts look like the type that would be all about the Writer's Guild and the late night TV scene. She even laughed at my Jay Leno mullet reference.

So yeah, it's been a while since my last haircut - probably about early March. It got to the point where it was rubbing against my cheeks and poking my back. "You dirty filthy idiot hippie, you," I know. I just tuck my hair under hats all the time anyway. Well it was a pleasant experience and it was quick, which is all I ask for. And the place was empty so there were no brats sneezing their stupid germs or their filthy hands grubbing all over soon-to-be-misplaced merchandise. When I finally got home, I looked in the mirror and was rather shocked: I've lost about 15 pounds since my last haircut, and apparently I've lost more facial fat, and thanks to my new "do", I looked like a dark blonde version of a young David Byrne, or at worst...a pre-rehab Charlie Sheen.

I'm a guy, so naturally I don't really give two sh*ts about my hair, but I will do this: keep it retro & cla$$ic, no matter what. I've seen some pretty bad hair$tyles in my day (including the revival of the mullet in the late 80s) or the bad early 90s hair$tyle where guys looked like button mushroom tops. And I think guys who obsess about their hair, use gels and special shampoos are a bunch of pretentious sissy Marys. Well that's all I have to say today, and that's one ordeal I can put off for another 2 months, or maybe 3 or 4, or whenever the next coupon comes along.

And no mullets!

I neglected the mention that my busty lady barber was going ape-sh!t over this Writer's Guild of America strike, basically salivating at the mouth about missing her beloved Desperate Housewives, of all things. It was actually kind of funny and really pathetic at the same time. :P