Yesterday I had an hour to kill, and I've been meaning to get my hair cut, so I thought I would just knock that out real quick.
I go to one of those cheapy places because I don't really care and also because there is a guy named Greg who works there and I can say "I don't care, make it cute and easy" and he does. Only Greg was gone. This should have been my warning, but I had already unloaded the kids, so I was committed.
I also should have known better when the lady before me left with the worst haircut in the world, but I was too busy thinking "Who would get their hair done like that? She's an idiot!"
Then, the hair lady was obviously mad that I brought six kids in, even after I told her we were only there for one cut. They bugged her through the whole thing, and I should have left then, but I didn't realize she was out for revenge.
I wear glasses, and without them, I am blind. The problem with this and haircuts is that when they take your glasses to cut your hair, you can't see what they're doing to you.
I said "I want you to leave the length and add some layers, that's it." She said "OK". She lied.
She did leave the length, but only in the back, so I have a mullet. On the left side, I have a normal short haircut with a few cute layers. On the right side, I have bangs that are longer than the rest of my hair, and right behind those is a giant clump of frizz, and right behind that is a bald spot.
I look like a guy from the 80's who cuts his own hair with a chainsaw. I tried wearing a hat, but that just makes the mullet stand out even more. I asked her to put some stuff in it just so the cut wouldn't show until I could get home and look at it, so she did, and then she ratted it up and slicked the front part straight back over the tangles. So I left looking like one of The Outsiders with a really tall head.
It's bad, yo. I'm going to have to fix it, but I'm not going to have any hair left, especially after they even out that bald spot.
Moral: Don't take my kids with me anymore, leave the glasses on, and FIND GREG.
