Hair Cuts

I decided to finally bite the bullet and get a hair cut. Hair is annoying. It keeps on growing long after you want it to stop. It's like a never ending war you can't win; like fighting a tide trying to drag you out to an ocean of being a dirty hippie. That goes doubly for facial hair. I scouted by the cheapest place I know of in town, on the look out for a certain someone who I distinctly remembered being unable to follow simple instructions and turning my head into a palm tree. I like Counting Crows, but I whole heartedly entrust Adam's unique hair style to him. I don't need any part of it rooted into my scalp.

Despite my best efforts though the exact same lady appeared out of nowhere and called me up for the deed. After the initial 'F me' moment I was impressed that she actually did a decent job, remembering (or reading in the database) everything I told her to do the time before, only this time I liked it. I think that she remembered me as that difficult guy who left her no tip, because just before I got up to go pay she stopped for an awkward serious moment and she said 'we value your business.'

There is nothing scarier than someone I don't know remembering me.