how you get what you ask for

as many of you know, i get my hair cut at "nice cuts". there's a "supercuts" a couple of blocks away, but i feel that "supercuts" overpromises.

at "nice cuts", i'm getting a nice cut.



problem is that "nice cuts" is in the haight, which is a nice fifteen minute walk. on the other hand, i could count the steps to "supercuts".

so i ate some pizza and went into a sporting goods store that was playing "heartbeat" by don johnson and i left with a huge smile on my face and got some cash and then a "happy anniversary" card for my parents and...well, "supercuts" was right next door. and, flapping onto the back of my next was a burgeoning mullet.

(editor's note: is that the first time the words "burgeoning" and "mullet" ever appeared together?)

so i walked into "supercuts", expecting an overpromise.

i have an easy cut. "just cut it short" - that's what i say. "it's gonna grow back in a week. you can't mess this up." they usually don't speak my language anyway. doesn't normally matter.

most barbershops begin with the scissor. at "supercuts", however, they ignore the middleman and go right to the buzzer. and she mowed away at the side of my head. my surprisingly english-speaking cutter asked me, "is this short enough?"

"yes". followed by silence, my fatal mistake.

if i had my druthers, i would go back in time and ask "what size blade are you using?"

...

look, i know i'm losing my hair. and i know that unless i'm going "gabe kotter", there's very little to do with this afro soul-glo i got going on other than keeping it short.

but i shouldn't take that lightly. with less, i need to take extra care. which means, had i walked the extra twelve minutes, maybe i wouldn't have such a severe "7-10 split". or "power alleys". or "desperation peninsula." or "low tide".

ah, what the hell. it could be worse.