... as a sheep before her shearers is dumb
Ever since I was in the first grade, I've been going to the same barber shop. It's an old fashioned place that's manned by two senior citizens both named Henry. Henry number one, I suspect, has Parkinson's disease, and Henry number two is clearly blind. You can probably imagine what the quality of their service is like. Needless to say; Henry Wonder and Henry J. Fox should not be cutting hair for a living.
As a kid, I guess I never noticed how bad they were at cutting hair. As I got older, I began to notice all the little things that make a visit to their shop quite annoying.
For instance, most barbers, when they want you to move your head, will either motion or ask you to do so. Henry number two likes to stick his finger in your ear and manually turn your head. There's nothing quite like a hair-gel wet-willy.
The Henrys also have a nasty habit of criticizing the plans you have for your 'do. For instance, if you sat down and asked for a "three" on the sides, one of the Henrys would surely say something to the effect of, "Oh that's too short, you're getting a four."
One time, my oldest brother (let’s call him "El Capitan") went to get a haircut and got more than he bargained for. El Capitan had spent the summer growing himself an impressive set of mutton chops that he was understandably proud of. Henry number two apparently didn't like my brother's sweet chops so he promptly cut them off, even after being instructed not to. El vowed to never set foot in their shop again, and he hasn't.
In high school, after I made a similar vow, I had a friend of mine start doing my hair for two reasons: 1. She didn't charge me and 2. She was a she.
There is something weird to me about having a dude who is under the age of seventy-five run his fingers through my hair.
Recently, I've been going to Supercuts. This has been hit-or-miss, to say the least. Half the time I get stuck with a fifty-something lady who does my hair the way guys did back in "her day." Needless to say, the "Pecadillo Pompadour" is not a good look. How can it be so hard to cut hair? I don't ask for much. Here's everything I want in a haircut:
1. A young, cute girl to spend no less than 20 minutes running her hands through my hair.
2. After she has sufficiently played with my follicles, she will promptly cut my hair in a manner that keeps minimal hair from going down the back of my shirt and itching me the rest of the day.
3. If both 1 and 2 are accomplished, who needs a three?
I don't think that's too much to ask.
Labels: haircuts
posted by Pecadillo at 11:27 PM
22 Comments:
A good barber is worth seeking out. I've had good luck finding a barber shop (not some wuss guy salon) in every place I have lived. Sometimes it takes a few tries, but eventually a find a place that specializes in men's hair. In fact, I like barbers who only use the razor. I really like barbers who use straight edged razors to clean up your neck and around the ears. And if you are paying more than $15 per haircut you are spending too much(not including tip...you do tip right?...they are holding dangerous things next to your head, and you don't want to be remembered as a bad tipper... You don't want a sideways mohawk...).
And I want to see a jar with the blue stuff and lots of combs in it. I don't trust anywhere without this. How do I know I am getting a clean comb through my hair without it? It's bad enough I have to share a chair with the strange looking old guy who just left, I don't want his comb touching me.
I like the red and white spinning poles out front. I like places that block the door open on nice weather days. I like places with lots of car magazines, and NO hair style example books. I don't want my barber to have a pony tail, and I really prefer my barber to have a military buzz, a real manly cut.
I like places where conversations seem to last all day. You walk in during the conversation, and they are still talking when you leave. In fact, I once left during a conversation, and came back the next month and they were still talking about the same thing. That's what I'm talking about!
Big Chris
Because I said so blog
Pec,
I realize you are at the age where hair matters. Sort of a psuedo-nancy boy complex. Been there, done that. Eventually, you will grow out of it.
Come out to GTY on Tuesdays sometimes and we will have Lenard Devall cut your hair. He is 80, sees with 20/20, gives a satisfactory hair-cut and it is free. Yes, Yes, I realize he may not be a "professonial" and he makes the occasional mistake as muffin (or dumplin?) or what ever you call him will testify, but at least he will make good on the mistake with buying you a box of candy or lunch.
Fred
Hip and Thigh
I stopped going to the barber when I lived in Florida. The barber in that town didn't think it necessary to wipe the tobacco drool off his mouth, although he did spit and gag the whole time he cut my hair. Once is enough for me.
The shop I go to is run by two brothers from Romania. They are both in their sixties, and one always has his shirt open to his belly button (to reveal more his hair-filled chest - and to show off his gold chain collection).
One of them, the other guy, actually gives great hair cuts - but you never know who you are going to get when you go. I always try to get the good guy, and my wife will know which one I got when I get home. Mr. Hairy will give me a poor cut, but smear me with hair goop to cover it up - so that I get home looking like a fifties greaser, but after the obligitory wash I look like a man with a bad haircut.
They are nice enough though - I always tip them.
I don't know if this rivals the two henry's but when I was a kid, my father cut my hair while he watched TV. The TV was enough of a destraction to ensure that he was the worst at what he did. I would show up at school with bald patches. IT was horrible.
Our family used to own sheep.
Frank, your parents own sheep? Now you know why the rural areas are my main point of missionary outreach.
Hey, I guess Pyro is your Dad. I've been reading his blog for a while but only recently started my own. Your barbershop kind of reminds me of this salon that my ex-girlfriend got me started going to. It is called Rufio's and there are three people that cut hair. Rufio, the owner- he is good but often gets way to highlight happy. You wouldn't believe how blond my streaks were when he did my hair last time. Then there is Claudia who is just brilliant. She is an artist with hair. She is the one you want to get when you go to Rufio's. The one you don't want to get is Paulo. One time I asked him for Auburn streaks and a razor cut, but he gave me ammeretto streaks and used scissors. He doesn't know what he is doing.
at least hair grows back. Fingers don't.
RevJJ, oh trust me, many people like you tried to come to my parents because they needed to "reach the rural" areas... and instead they got preached too.
He he he he he
Hey, I'm getting my hair cut today!
Just so you know, Pec--I have some barber scissors and a willing heart.
Word verification: bdunfy--"a Portuguese pillow stuffed with the cotton from the tops of aspirin bottles."
Hahahahahahahaha!
That was quite humourous.
(Especially after I blogged that I don't need a haircut!)
I have had the same woman cutting my hair for years. I believe the person who cuts your hair should be just that--the person who cuts your hair. Once the place she worked at closed down, and I didn't get a hair cut--it was quite shaggy by the time She saw me while shopping. I had an appontment within the week.
And Jeremy--I still don't need a haircut.
I get my hair cut at a place called Flo's Hair Palace... thats right, I said Flo's Hair Palace.
Pilgrim,
The first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem.
At least that's what they told me at my Blogger's Anonymous meeting last night.
I wonder what made it cool for guys to cut hair back in the day. Maybe there was this general rule that it wasn't cool but guys needed a place to sit down and read the paper for a bit while talking about "the big game."
Then girls starting cutting hair and suddenly the first traitors were the young guys with hormones. After that guys like Henry and Henry just had "the good old days" to look back on.
That is, until hair cuts starting costing more than an oil change.
I'm letting my hair grow for a while, no more hair cuts for another month, i think.
I used to go to a place called Stu's Barber shop, but i got tired of looking like i was in the JR. ROTC proram. Now, I go to a FABULOUSSSS 'hair dresser' named Fabreezio Salvadora. And he's about as straight as the hot pink boa he wears. but my chic 70's retro perm looks SICK!!
Jeremy--my hair will never be as short as yours is in that picture!
Some more good laughs here, and some relating to unfortunate experiences.
I bought my truck from my barber. He's a guy, but he was in the marines, so I don't get the same creepy feeling as I did from my last barber who would better be described as a.... um, stylist, sort of like the one Wes visited. (But he sure could cut hair!)
great story!
just thought you might like to know, I DID invent a cure for the problem of the itchy neck after a haircut. Watch for it, will be out soon,
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