Hey Michael, why are people saluting you today? Did you join the Marines or something?
OK, HELL NO, I did not join the Marines. (Picture: Me, gun, intensly blaring heat, army fatigues, no Dr. Pepper or refreshing margaritas … a bunch of hot guys. Hmmm. Maybe I should enlist.)
See, I went to get my hair cut last nite. My usual guy, Joel, was gone. So I went to my backup lady whom I’ve used once. She was nice, but kind’a weird (like probably-has-40-cats-at-home weird). So this girl (who talks way too much) washes my hair while waving her obviously freshly deoderant-ized armpit in my face. Then I sit on the couch. “Your lady will be with you shortly.”
So I’m sitting there with wet hair while some hot guy in front of me is getting his hair cut by the trampy pot head who cut my hair once before. Another woman (with REALLY bad dye job) sits in my lady’s chair and my haircut lady says “oh, there’s someone still ahead of you.” I was all “oh, HELL no.”
“Well would you mind going to Juanita-Just-Got-Out-of-Cosmotology-School?”
“As long as she doesn’t fuck up my hair.”
Well guess what.
She fucked up my hair. I now look live I’ve enlisted in 3 different factions of the US Military. And let me tell you — I DON’T look good with a shaved head. (Asshole.) Needless to say, I got the haircut at half-price.

I swear they should have malpractice lawsuits again asshole haircutters who can’t cut a hole in a paper bag, much less someone’s beautiful red hair.