Yeah, some words of wisdom to start out the week. I have a lot to catch you up on, and I have a big project that I am currently not working on in order to do this. But you know what, my mornign went into hte crapper once I got here and now I am in a poopy mood and need to not think about the ca-ca on my desk (notice I had 3 seperate chances to use the word "shit" in some variation and did not. I am not sure why I went all PG-13 there). What happened this morning when I got here? You will have to wait until I get to that.
Let's start with Saturday and the Hair Butchery. Yes, I know that Hair Cuttery is the McDonalds of hair cuts, and that isn't necessarily a bad thing. I go to one near my house and never have a problem. Until Saturday.
One of the things I like to do the day of a show is get a haircut (raise your hand if you see where this is going. Okay, now put your hands down. Your co-workers are looking at you again). I had to work Saturday morning in the world of "HOLY CRAP IT'S BACK TO SCHOOL IN TWO DAYS AND WE STILL NEED TO GET ALL THE SUPPLIES AND NEW CLOTHES AND YOUR OLDER BROTHER IS MOVING TO AN OFF CAMPUS APARTMENT AND NEEDS A FUTON AND A MINI FRIDGE!!!!!!!!" (on Sunday Channel 11 sent some schmuck to do some "BTS" reports, clogging up the main entrance and cart area for about 2 hours. He interviewed one of the managers, oh sorry, "LOD's" and did a bunch of bumpers/teasers for the noon and 5/6/7 o'clock news reports. One time he screwed up and dropped a full on "S" bomb. I can only hope that it gets YouTubed, because it was great. At one point I had to feel bad for the guy, because you know he had aspirations to be the next Ted Koppel, and odds are this is the pinnacle of his career, Sunday morning special interest stories in a Target on the tax free BTS shopping week. Then I realized that I am not getting any younger and there is always the possibility that I have also reached my career apex, and I cried a little). So the word of the day Saturday morning was "hectic". I usually would have gotten off at 4 on a morning shift, but since the other security guard is guaranteed 40 hrs/week and I am not, and since she had to work both days this weekend, I got to leave at 2. So I called ahead and made an appointment for 2:30 at the good old Hair Cuttery (did you forget what I was talking about. You can thank one of BSR's patented "look how funny I am" tangents for that) and made my way there directly.
I will not use the name of the person who was charged with cutting my hair, but for the sake of referring to her through the course of this, I will call her Sweeney Todd (or Sweeney). I sat in the chair and told her what I wanted. I usually get a "Ceaser" (pizza pizza), basically the look George Clooney had 10 years ago, but a little shorter on top, and I have the sides and back shaved down to a "1" (as close as you can get to shaving bald). Well, my first mistake was wearing in my old glasses, because when she finished (it took her about 7-10 minutes which should have set off all kinds of mental "DANGER WILL ROBINSON" alarms, but it didn't because of my second mistake, being in a hurry to get home and rest up a little before the show) I couldn't really see any problems. So I went home and took a shower, which washed all the hair off of my forhead. This is important, because when I looked at my face and hair in the mirror, I suddenly saw that there was a marked downward slope (about a 20-25 degree angle) from my right temple to my left temple. This is not good. Then I started to give my head a real close look (I should also mention at this time that the chair at the "salon" was not centeres with the mirror, another warnign sign I ignored in my haste to get home. And one other thing about Sweeney. I noticed when I was first seated in her chair that I never get offered the shampoo and conditioner, which are supposed to be part and parcel of the haircut. I thought that maybe it was because I was a guy and they thought that guys didn't want that, but a guy before me got offered it and refused it. So now I feel a little neglected. But as I was first seated in her chair I was just thinking about how I never get offered the wash and wax service. While I was thinking this she was starting to shave down the sides of my head. Suddenly she stopped and asked me if I wanted the shampoo treatment. This means one of four things: 1) What I thought I was thinking I was saying out loud, 2) my hair needed to be washed but she didn't notice it until she got into the haircut, 3) she is kinda slow and not the best stylist and remembered to offer it after she started, and offered it with the same enthusiasm of the guy at the McDonald's drive thru who asks/offers you an apple pie with your Value Meal, as apathetic as possible because it is only being said because of the mind control/training that he went through, or 4), and the one I think is most likely, she is psychic and she could hear my thoughts. I can only hope that it is a localized power and you have to be in close proximity to her in order for her to "hear" you. Otherwise she knows all the names I was calling her Saturday afternoon/evening). So as I said 20 minutes ago (before the last "quick aside"), I looked closely at my hair, and Wifey looked at it too. The best way to sum it up is imagine I was moving my head back and forth like Stevie Wonder and she stood on either side of me with a magical razor. As I rocked my head in a direction, she would hold the razor perfectly straight and everything below the razor would magically be cut while everything above it would stay the same. The sides would be pretty much straight if not exactly neat or completely cut, but the front and back would look like wedges or inclined planes. That is what my hair looked like. And the aftermath of this? Well, I did the entire show while trying to hide my hairline by pushing the left side up and over to make it look a little bit more uniform, and on Sunday I called them up and said I needed to get my hair fixed from my haircut yesterday. When they asked me who cut my hair the day before, I told them "Sweeney" (names still changed to protect the moronic and untalented). They responded with "Oh Yeah, sure. What time you want to come in?". So obviously I wasn't the only one who had a problem. hich begs the question of why they are letting her work on Saturday afternoons. Shouldn't she be on some T-W-Th mornings only, just working the blue hair dye machine?
So Sunday was more Target fun and frivolity (as mentioned earlier) and going back to get my head fixed. And then I had my fantasy football draft in the late afternoon (on the off chance you are interested in that, check out "Another Damn Sports Blog" tonight) and watched the final episode of "Deadwood". DAMN that show is hardcore! I cannot WAIT for the two tv movies that are supposed to wrap up the storylines.
Now to today. First and foremost, the drive in was not as bad as I thought it would be with the BTS traffic. And I saw a couple of those "gotta love Baltimore" moments. First was the guy driving the oil truck (the ones that deliver heating oil to your homes). He was smoking. I was too stunned by the sight of it to get the guy's "How am I Driving?" info, and once I cleared the potential blast zone it just became surreal to the point of making me giggle. The second was the guy who thought about trying to cross North Avenue as the light was changing, going so far as to make it halfway to the median as the light for the traffic that would have made him play human Frogger turned green. So what did he do? Did he continue on to the median and wait there for his next opportunity? No. Did he turn around and walk/jog/run back to the original curb? No. Did he just stand there and make traffic go around him? No. He started jogging backwards, doing that almost hop thing you do when you run backwards, going back to the original curb THAT way. Very graceful and very "you won't see shit like this in Boston". So far a good morning. But my hard boiled eggs that I bring for breakfast ruined my morning. One of them actually burst in the pot while I was getting ready to leave (I usually put them on the stove right before I go to get my clothes out and get dressed for work. By teh time I get upstairs and make myself a cup of coffee they are ready to go). So I took the rest and put them in the baggie and went on my way. And they were not done at all! The shells were still completely sticking to the egg whites and the yolks were half cooked at best. WTF?!?!? So now my breakfast was ruined and I am going to be grumpy/hungry until I get lunch, which better not suck or I am going to go postal.
Okay, I REALLY need to get to work now. But let me end with a line I heard while Wifey was watching the show "Firefly" on dvd last night (my longstanding stance on sci-fi being clearly defined here I will say that I have a passing knowledge of the show from her watching/discussing it with me and Larry the Upstairs Neighbor). But either way, this line was great, and I plan on using it more and more in my everyday life.
Make good love! (spoken to a space prostitute, or whatever the hell the character is. Basically she is a whore. But she is hot, so I am okay with that)
BSR
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