The one thing I hate about the winter is getting a haircut because now my ears are cold. The bald patch growing out back has stayed the same temperature but my ears are cold. It is nothing a hat cannot fix, but a sheep does not wear a jumper. Winter is coming. Winter is coming, and I have cold ears.
Okay I may have been watching too much Game of Thrones; actually winter is already here in the southern hemisphere. The days are gloomy, the nights are cold, and the worst thing is that there is no snow to justify the shivering. Even without snow, after a point cold is cold and the number doesn’t matter. It’s just cold.
I generally don’t feel the cold too much. I’m too busy metabolising food like a mad man and I had a mop of a hair style for extra insulation on top. That is all gone now, not gone as in I shaved my head, if anything I got a more fashionable haircut than I have had in a long time. And by long time I mean at least 8 years. When I left the barber’s last Saturday I was welcomed outside by a gust of cold air right in the front face. Icicles were forming on my lobes.
I should say almost fashionable because I am slowly but surely starting to bald and that will never be "in", andI have curly hair. And curly hair will never be "in" for anyone over the age of 6. Despite what the expression expresses, curls do not get the girls. When has a women ever described a man as “hot” solely by their hair alone? Jack Osborne has curly hair, and I don't think he's beating the ladies off with a stick.
(Insert beating stick joke)
(Insert “insert beating stick joke”)
If I can offer any advice, it would be that Nutella is better than peanut butter (isn't that right Mr. D'Agostino? You know it is true not just better in taste, but also more righteous) and when combined they make a great sandwich, but my word of caution would be that you should never get a haircut when you are hung-over.
There are rules against obtaining tattoos when under the influence of alcohol, but I would like to see them extended to the morning after. Because when the man is running that comb through your hair and he finds a tangle you just want him to die a slow and painful death just like you. I was in that situation on the weekend and I wasn't in the best of health when I sat in the barber’s chair; I winced at the cool mist of water wetting my hair, the sound of the scissors echoed deep in my ears, and my temples throbbed as that damned clipper slid over my skin like someone trying to make a Slip ‘n’ Slide on concrete. I wasn't having a good time, I just wanted the bad man to stop. The barber could have just shaved a strip down my head and cut some lines into my eyebrows, and when he would pull the mirror out to show me the back for the "what do you think?", I would already be standing at the counter ready to pay.
Luckily it turned out to be a girlfriend approved haircut, but it could have been much worse. Remember kids if you're drinking, don't get your haircut.
This has been a health and safety announcement... I think