Lumpy

Well this is my premier, my blogging debut. My very own media outlet, my portal to the rest of the world. Watch out O’Reilly. I once used email to express my thoughts and bullshitedness. Well times have changed. Email is old and busted, blogging is the new hotness.

I thought for a long while about a story I should tell the world, or at least a few people who I call friends, who in turn refer to me as an acquaintance. It’s not a very good one in my opinion but I’ll have better things to write about later.

I find it funny how seemingly boring things tend to catch my attention. Yep, boring everyday life. In fact, I am quite close to this subject. It is not until you look at something that has happened to you and realize that it isn’t all that boring once you look into it a little deeper.

For instance, I set an appointment to get my hair cut this last Tuesday. Now you may ask yourself why a guy has to set an appointment at Super Cuts, Master Cuts, Cuts R Us or at the PETCO Grooming Station. Well you don’t. I on the other hand am blessed with a jacked up head. Laden with bumps and ridges that no other human would be able to comprehend. Electric clippers don’t cut it for me.

I’m not sure how I got this beautiful noggin. Being slapped upside the head by my sisters is certainly a possibility. Maybe it is from me not being able to break my fall with my hands until I was in 6th grade. Seriously, I was in and out of the emergency room my whole childhood because I knew not to use my hands when I fell. Imagine a kid constantly breaking his falls with his chin, forehead and the rest of his head. My hands are pristine. If you have ever seen me, next time take a closer look and you will notice scars over scars on my chin and forehead from these most unfortunate of events. To this day, I remember my dad sitting down with me in the living room of our house and falling on purpose just so I could watch how he used his hands to catch himself. Remember, I was in sixth grade at the time. I wasn’t 3 or 4, at least physically I wasn’t. I was what a politically correct person would call a gifted child. Not much unlike the Utah Cub Scout Goober hiding from his rescuers.

When I first moved to Dallas, I set out on a task to find a good place to get my mop chopped. I initially set out for this joint called Toni & Guy. Don’t get me wrong, they did a superb job, but they also did a superb job of taking $45 of my hard earned, well hardly earned money. I had to find somewhere cheaper. After many gouges, millions of stray hairs and many a long nights touching up after my haircuts from various assembly line shops. I decided to try this place I heard on the radio one day. It is located deep in the heart of the Dallas gay community right off of Peter Springs a.k.a Cedar Springs.

I call up this shop not expecting much and they ask which stylist I would prefer. I said gimme one because I haven’t been in before. The sweet lady, which turned out to be a pink haired middle aged lesbian, but sweet nonetheless, said I would be meeting with Leslie for my appointment.

I must say that I was kind of excited at the opportunity to get a girl since I would be traveling beyond my comfort zone into they gayness which is Peter Springs. The day of my appointment I walk in the store and check in. Pinky says Leslie will be right with me. As I scanned the chopping floor, I notice only one girl and she was with a client. My girl must be in the back I think. About 10 minutes later, I glance over and see about a 6 foot 2 black man, wearing skin tight hip hugger pants that looked like they were made of spandex and a mesh shirt coming my way. I dare not stare, but gaze through the corner of my eye. Already feeling a little uncomfortable I pretend not to see him. He comes up and says, Josh? Wondering how he knew my name I say what’s up man, using the word man loosely. He said, I’m Leslie, you ready?
Damn the luck.

Well it just so turns out he’s a pretty cool guy and does a great job of cutting my hair and massaging my head and neck in the wash sink. (Quit thinking crazy thoughts. Its his job.)

Several months go by with good haircuts and then last Tuesday rolls around. Now Leslie has never come out and told me he was gay but someone like this doesn’t have to come out. When someone brings up penis’ pills in conversation you just know these things. Ladies, guys may think about penis pills and if they work but they don’t just chat it up with their buddies about trying them.

Well I was sitting in the chair and he tells me that I may need to think about letting him try something different with my hair. He suggests some blonde highlights, to which I reply, ahh hell no, I don’t want to look like one of those gay Backstreet Boys...

Have you ever started to say something and know as soon as you start saying it that you shouldn’t be saying it, but you just can’t make yourself stop? Well it came out and the scissors suddenly stopped. Punching myself internally I start to get nervous again. I don’t want to look at him but I’m staring in the mirror with him behind me. I’m thinking I need to pull something out of my ass for damage control but I have nothing. After a long silence and no clipping, maybe 10 seconds, he says, “Well then!” That’s it. He finishes my hair and proceeds to do a crappy job of washing my hair and leaves me with no neck massage. WTF?

What will happen to my lumpy head when I go back? Only time will tell. I may have to write about my freak accident at the chop shop at a later date.

Good’aye!