On Thursday as I’m googling for protein I decide that when it comes to my hair I can’t deal anymore so left with no choice must shave off the short-on-the-sides-long-on-top-swept-look I’ve grown obsessive over since I flew back from the States .
And this poses a huge problem for me because I’m vain but naturally indecisive and immediately regret all bold moments like this at most twelves seconds after I’ve done them. So I do the only sensible thing and ask RV and GG, who I work with and SE, who I don’t.
RV (Without hesitation): “Do what you want”
GG (Caution): “It’s November in like a week. Cold ears, just sayin’”
SE (Muted enthusiasm): “It could go two ways: Nick Jonas or get well soon”
And this non-unanimous response leaves me pretty annoyed so I waste more time writing a list of pros and cons which isn’t very long (Pro - Nick Jonas, Con - nothing like Nick Jonas) and doesn’t get me any further so I abandon the idea and shuffle papers with “Levels” playing on repeat instead.
In a crowded barber shop tucked away in a side street of the business district:
· I drink four complimentary beers in 50 minutes
· I estimate that the average age of clientele is 19
· I mumble “Thanks lad” and “cheers mate” several times and tense up when spoken at to disguise being a big homo fox in the hetero hen house.
· Barber 1 tells Barber 4 what ex-Barber 3’s girlfriend (Barber 1 is fucking her now) tried to do while they were having sex. Barber 4: “Dirty”
· The music alternates between club and shit dubstep mixes. On repeat.
· Everyone has a variation of the same cloned style.
· I hand over a note and leave for the gym with a tidier version of the same haircut I had two hours ago.