Monday, September 20, 2010

Quick Cut.

Quick Cut.

Good afternoon. No appointment necessary. Walk-in. That’s fine I can take you now. Where’s Margo? She’s out to lunch. I see she’s your usual girl. Of course I’m capable of handling a quick cut. Let’s take care of this. Come on over. Tell me,  what do you want? A little of the top and leave this piece alone. In the rear take a tiny bit less and up front, leave it long. Got it, honey.  Let’s get on with it then. You certainly don’t have all afternoon. You’re on lunch. How much time you got? 37 minutes left in your lunch hour from the moment you stepped foot through that door. What an interesting answer. You have it all timed out. Oh I see, a 45 minute lunch hour. It takes me exactly 23 minutes to walk here in the morning. Today, this morning, the walk over to the shop that usually takes 23 minutes,  it takes eight minutes longer since there’s an old lady holding up traffic causing a crowd to form at the intersection while three men try to help her out they end up brawling over the way each other looks. What is it? Not there. I’m cutting too short. Well, I have to make it even and move onto the back. We’re down to 28 minutes and you have to pick up a suit at the cleaners on the way back in. Aren’t you a busy bee? There’s never enough time to pick up after work. I always seem to arrive after they close. Last week I had to leave my Organdy cocktail dress overnight because I missed the closing time. That’s looking much better. 22 minutes. Almost finished. Just another smidge on the left corner. Uh-huh, there. All done and back on your way. Ta-dah!

300. Haircut. Stylists always seem to make the most amazing conversationalists. If you cut your own hair… definitely missing out on a treat. It’s not about the cost of the cut either. I can assure you my favorite stylists happen to be the ones charging the least amount [and I compensate by leaving a large tip]. It’s been a while… but the last interesting story from my  hairdresser involved a temperamental client with a bad bikini wax, sitting under a hair dryer with a cell phone yelling to someone about a large amount of topical anesthetic in a few inappropriate places. The things people say out in the open… do they say much about them once revealed or reveal less meaning once spoken? Anyway, good night. enjoy. kisses. m.

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