Well, got a brand new haircut anyway, a cheap $10 at Best Cuts along Elizabeth Street. And for that amount of money, I got a gawdawful haircut. Short back and sides, well you don't need a picture do you? I've got one but I think it'd be sensible not to post it. My sister would probably spit her cereal all over her laptop screen (doesn't matter which part of the day it is, her breakfast can last her till midnight).

So anyway, back to the haircut. The woman cutting it was surely no expert. How do I know? Well, for one she'd dig the shaver into my air and when it caught, she'd yank it out again. It felt as though she was physically ripping the hair out but I think you're not supposed to yell, so I didn't. Her pair of scissors musn't have been too long either. She'd grab a tuff of hair and take a few slow snips to cut them off. Maybe she was using a pair of toe clippers. I've no idea. I didn't have my spectacles on.