Now everyone will want one…

All is vanity.

Especially hair.

Or rather the lack of it, in particular places.

No one ever seems overly concerned with the abundance of it in other places.

So it’s not a ‘ quantity’ thing.

It’s purely a vanity thing.

But when you wake up to realize that you suddenly have Flock of Seagulls hair, then it’s best to address the problematic protein before the authorities are summoned.

The authorities would presume that such a thing came into being on purpose; they  would never suspect that Flock of Seagulls hair descends on the innocent like a thief in the night, poisoning relationships, altering career paths, and traumatizing children. Dogs bark…cats begin to howl…

I drove quickly and with determination to the local barber guy. He’s a bit older than I am, always cuts a bit too starkly short, but that’s all right. All is vanity, remember. I got past all that a while ago.

He wasn’t there.

His kid was. The one who started working there about a year ago; the one who cuts all the young guys’ hair, and somehow messes up anyone else. Been there, done that.

I drove home again. Not today, Kanye West…not today.

Long story short…Barber in a Box. One of the many thousands of gizmos that my living quarters are overrun with; every kitchen counter-top device known to man, assembled for posterity by She Who Is Driven To Purchase Every Kitchen Counter-Top Device Known To Man for Posterity.

It’s been lurking for years, just like the Salad Shooters and Onion Smashers, the Panini Makers, the Crockpots of various sizes and shapes…Dr. Seuss gone completely mad.

Of course, my junk is not included. My stuff has an elegantly engineered and divinely inspired Purpose. That much is obvious.

It was going surprisingly well. I did it myself; it’s actually quite a practical little device, and really easy to use. It has these little ‘spacer’ things that go over the blade, so that you can only cut to that particular length. Pretty simple. And I was really enjoying getting the upper hand on Kanye the Fake Barber.

Almost done, and there was just a small bit in the back that I couldn’t quite get to…so I asked Sandra to assist ( SWIDTPECTDKTMP).

She did so; reluctantly, hesitantly.

She was apparently going to trim two atoms of hair off at a time. This could take weeks.

I took the device from her, meaning to show her just how much pressure could be applied; the little spacer thingie was designed to prevent unfortunate mistakes. Says so right on the box; it even shows a little kid using it.

But…as I brought it up behind my head, the little spacer thingie slipped off. I didn’t see that, and I ran the last pass right up the back with a bare blade.

In almost twenty years time, I have certainly heard the poor girl scream, cry, and laugh…but never all at the same time.

I laughed too, at first. It kind of looks like a crop circle from a distance. Up close, it has more of a reddish, mangy hue. Diseased.

But now… I’ll have to saunter past the barber shop, desperately hoping that the fake barber might spot a new trend on the rise. Kanye wouldn’t want to be seen as uncool, would he? I’ll tell him that I got it in New York for only $200.

It could work.

All is vanity.

Published in: on July 3, 2012 at 12:07 am  Leave a Comment  

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