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It has been a horrible, horrible weekend. So much so I have to say it twice.

On Friday, I got the mother-of-all-ugly haircut. Now the sides and back is good, but the front, my barber just cut off way too much. Dang, I feel like I just got smacked with a 2x4 ugly stick.

Wait, let me first quote from my buddy Helter Skelter: Assumption is the mother-of-all fudge ups. How true.

As I sat on the chair with still a full head of hair, I told the dude: "I'm spiking my hair up now, and not just gel-ing the front part up. So I guess I need the top to be shorter too." He concurs, I smile. With visions of studliness and killer babe-magnetism in mind (hey, I'm delusional okay?!), I sat there happy as can be. Barber starts off with the electric sheers. All good so far.

Next thing I realize, I'm looking like a bald eagle with peach fuzz on top. The front was so short I felt like the kid at school trying to gel his head for the first time - you know the type, all sticky, stiff, not unlike a helmet. It just doens't look right from any angle. Now, I'm a guy through and through, and we aren't supposed to care about stuff like this, but I'm telling you, if you saw it, you'd pity me too.

Anyway, because of that, my self-confidence hit an all-time low. We're talking off the scales low. It's pretty sad.

That Friday night, Fido and I went to a local pub for beer. Feeling generous, I decided to buy the first round. Walking up to the bar, I spot an extremely cute bar-keep. Fido later found out she was an Irish-Malaysian mix. Sort of like Mariah Carrey with Chinese eyes. Hot!!

Having not worked out consistently for a week and dressing like a slob, I walk over there, timid as a mouse. I was not jaunty, there was no spring in my step. In effect, I shuffled over with my eyes cast down. The walk of the damn, if truth be told.

I quickly mumbled "Two Buds." without making eye-contact. I didn't look around (there were several attractive females in the vicinity, but I didn't bother checking any out, in fear or being laughed at.) I didn't talk to anyone, look at anything, just anxiously waited for the beers to arrive. I grabbed my wallet and took out fifteen dollars, knowing that a beer there would be Five-fifty each.

When she came back with the change, she put down a toonie and two loonies. As I reached to grab the toonie, she smacked her hands down on all the change, covering them. Now normally, that would be a great conversation starter, maybe to the tune of "Hey, help out the needy, don't be greedy." - or something resembling wit. Instead, I slouch my shoulders, peer down at my shoes, shrug and walk away with my beers in hand. Totally silent, without even a peep or eye-contact.

I feel like Samson with his hair cut off. My power is gone, my strength is naught. I feel like a hundred pound weakling. Sigh. At least if I wore a hat, I coulda be gansta-cool or something. Instead, I really felt like a total loser.

So I ended up shelling up at work the whole weekend, which was worse because I didn't get anything done, and that got me more mad.

....Doesn't rubbing brandy on the scalp promote hair growth? posted by losir at 12:16 PM