ShortCut

Sorry about the abscence everyone.
I dropped by the diamond mine in Africa.
My go-betweens told me that the locals weren't stealing from me, but you can never trust the go-between. Or the locals.
You know how it is.

I got a haircut yesterday.
I don't like getting haircuts for a number of reasons:
To launch, all of the hairdressers have to make a deal about my hair.
"Got some curls," they say. Which is meant to be complimentary, which is fine.
But what am I supposed to say to that, really?
"I grew them for you." That's what I've been saying for years.
I have to judge a length. How much do I want removed?
Well, I know what shape I want it to be in when she's finished.
I don't know how much needs to be taken off for that to happen.
My hair bunches up, you see. Length is hard to determine at times.
They comb without being mindful of tangles.
They ask questions that I don't know the answer to.
"Do you want layers?"
I have no idea what that means.
And there is no worse form of chit chat than hairdresser chit chat.
What do we have to say to each other?
Who could possibly care less about me and pretend to be more interessted than the hairdresser?
I have to tell them what I'm doing, which is bad enough, since it's inevitably nothing.
Then I have to ask them questions.
Otherwise I'm an asshole.
"Is this job as miserable as it seems?"
That sort of thing.
Then it's over and I have to tip them. They stand there, too, and wait.
When did hairdressers start getting tips, by the way?
Because it's bullshit.
They already charge completely unnecessary prices, and it varies every time you go there.
It's like booking a plane ticket.
Sometimes it costs $18. Sometimes it costs $28. For the exact same process.
What service did they do for me besides their job?
It's not like you tip your dentist.
I hate getting my haircut.
The very first time I received a haircut I cried like a bastard.
I still do.