So my classrooms lights and computer were broken today so i only had to go to english for ten minutes. So in my spare time i will tell you about my haircut.
I have needed a haircut since the St. Johns game but havent had time yet. well last week Matt's mom told him he had one scheduled and so i called the place and scheduled one there too. It was for five o'clock yesterday. i show up at this place. its called the posh place. ya. the posh place. i walk in the door. There was soft, enya-type music playing and the walls were painted that weird brownish yellow color. Sister platt had scheduled us an appointment at HER place. It was a sodding SPA! I felt so weird there first of all becuase i'm a guy and on top of that i looked homeless with my long hair.
She asks me what number of clipper to use. How the hell am i supposed to know that?! I had no idea so i just said 'go for it lady.' it was strange cause that is the first haircut where the barber didn't know what i wanted. it was horrible. i wanted to get up and run away and yell "KELLY ALWAYS KNOWS WHAT TO DO!" But ya she cuts my hair. Hooray. I pay her and i was starting to walk out the door and she says 'Let me know if you have any problems with it". Now let that sink in. Let me know if you have any problems with it. its a bloody haircut! is there a warranty? will my haircut run out of batteries or get its paint scratched? I had no idea what she was talking about.
That was until i got home. I took a shower last night at about 1 and when i got out i saw what she meant by "problems". She left all sorts of hunks sticking up and its all uneven and i didn't know what was going on. it looked worse than when mom and rylee cut my hair and thats saying something. but i can't go back to her and say "you really blow at this haricutting bussiness i want you to try again" because that would be embarassing. and she would probably only make it worse.
Maybe when it grows out it will be better, but for now i look like a piece of brocolli that got ran over with a lawnmower.