Thick
- October 9th, 2005
- By midbach
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I went to get my hair cut yesterday. I’ve been going to the same place for like 8 years and see the same woman everytime. I called in the morning and made an appointment. It comes time to go and I wander down there, walk in and just sit down. The girl at the desk was busy with another customer but having been a regular for the past 8 years, I felt no need to annouce my reason for being there. “Hi, you must be Mark?” The inflection in her voice telling me that she actually didn’t know. “Um, yeah…”
I ignore it and go in. After the usual pleasentries we get down to business; “So what do you want?” “Well, it’s getting cooler, so I’d like to grow it out a little, so let’s not take much off; you know, just a trim…”
40 minutes later, I have a full summer hair cut with my hair parted on the wrong side. “Do you want a blow dry?” “No, if you blow dry my hair I’ll walk ot of here looking like Oral Roberts. I don’t even own a comb let alone a blow dryer…” She immediately goes for this gooey shit that she always tries to put in my hair. It feels like bacon grease and I swear I have to shampoo 3 times to get rid of it. “Uh, I hate that stuff, do you have anything else? Just something light so it doesn’t get frizzy”
Every time the same thing… Blowdry? No. Part? Opposite side that I came in with. Bacon grease? No thank you. And $35 for my trouble.









