Recently I had my ears lowered. This wasn’t some serious plastic surgery that I had to endure, no. It’s slang for getting a haircut. Don’t feel silly if you didn’t know that. Only people born in the 1930’s and fans of the television show Doug have ever used it.
It had been over a year since my last haircut. I usually get one haircut a year. I try to synch it up with the same day I change my bed sheets every year. I don’t know why it is. Just one of those strange family traditions like wearing red on Christmas or killing your father when you turn 18.
My head has been very cold since removing a good half of my weight off my head. I probably should have done it earlier, like when it was hot out and I was always sweaty. Perhaps I’m going crazy. Is this the start of my EVOLUTION OF INSANITY!!! I own several hats so things haven’t been too bad. If my head gets too cold I could always rub it on the backs of strangers to warm it up. They’ll think I’m being cute like a kitten. Or weird like a psychopath.
I was in desperate need of a haircut. Even I’d admit that. But I don’t go to barber shops. No. Not since a woman with long forearm hairs gave me a buzz cut and asked me what kind of drugs I’ve experimented with. It felt like a poorly operated sting to bust a good boy who stays away from drugs. I remember my mom waiting in the car. I never asked her to do that. I think she was too embarrassed to be seen with me.
This haircut was different from the rest. This one was done by myself. Yep, all by my lonesome. Nobody helped. Not a single living human being. Well, I guess the makers of the razor helped. And Tmobile for providing a camera phone which helped me take pictures of the back of my head to make sure I didn’t miss a spot. I’m still not sure if I did miss a spot either. That’s something I’ll probably never know. Until a bully points it out to me by rudely tugging on it like Santa’s beard. I don’t know why a child would ever tug on a mall Santa’s beard. That still doesn’t mean that Santa isn’t real. Maybe Santa has a fake beard too. Or decided to shave. I shaved my head finally after a year. What’s to stop Santa from shaving his beard after 6,000 years? (That’s how old archeologists believe Santa to be, approximately)
I’m proud of myself for being able to cut my own hair. It’s liberating. I like to think of it almost as a passage into adulthood. I’m no longer restrained to paying $10 to some vocational school student to make me look handsome. I am my own handsome maker. I don’t need any of my old barbers anymore. Not the girl with the long forearm hair. Not the guy who tried to sell me raffle tickets for a bike despite me not knowing how to ride a bike. Not the guy whose first name was Scott or his last name was Wolf. I can’t remember which was true. I do remember thinking that he might have been actor Scott Wolf, down on his luck.
I’ve lost some appreciation now for barbers. Sure, hair stylists have some talent. They’re artists for hair. I appreciate good art. I appreciate good hair. That’s why I have no beef with hairstyles who can do more than shave a head. To my credit, my hair was so long that I had to randomly cut patches out of it before the shaving. More points for me. I am better than you barbers. You are no longer needed in my life. You too women named Barbara. You’re just as useless to me now. And just to finish off with people I have no use for now, people with the last name Barbera. I only know two, cartoonist Hanna and elementary school friend of mine Michael. I’m tired of Yogi Bear and I’m even more tired of memories of friends I haven’t spoken to since 1997. I wonder what he’s doing right now. Hopefully Googling himself and then reaching this site. That would be kind of creepy. Maybe a potential boss of yours is reading this right now. Here, how about I ruin the chance at the job.
3 Reasons Not to Hire Michael Barbera:
1) He had a dog named Baron. Do you know who else had something named Baron? The Nazis! They had the Red Baron, a dog fighting pilot. See how this all connects here?
2) He liked a girl because she could throw a good spiral with a football. That’s shallow and kind of weird. You don’t want someone like that working for you do you?
3) He once hid nunchucks in his father’s tool drawer and blamed it on his brother Chris. His mother yelled at him “Michael, don’t be fresh!” and he admitted his guilt. Do you want someone who doesn’t stand their ground working for your company? A man who admits to lies? Did not think so.
That’s what you get for not keeping in touch asshole.