Jackess of all trades
With titles like that its no wonder I am not getting any traffic thanks to SEO (search engine optimization).
Its the truth though, I will attempt just about anything. You wont find me hiding in a corner, biting my fingers about how I will be terrible at something. I may very well be terrible at it, but I will at least give it a go and find out for myself. Call me a skeptic, thats me.
So awhile ago when Mr.Blab jokingly asked me to cut his hair, cause he was too lazy to go to the hairdresser, I said “Sure, dude, have a seat and hand me those meat scissors over there”. I said it jokingly too, but he turned out to be even crazier than me, because he handed his mane to my completely lost for words hands and the rest is history.
I have had my hair cut, I have watched other people do it, many times; I knew the proper technique to hold the hair, and who doesnt know how to use scissors?! It cant be that hard. And the truth is that even after I was done with him, he was safe for public viewing and didnt miss a day off work, to both of our surprise.
I still have no clear idea what I am doing when I grab the scissors, which now are proper hair-cutting ones and I even have thinning blades to complete my professional tool set.
Yours truly is now the official family hairdresser, which not only makes my man unappealing to other females, but also saves us not a negligible amount of money. (The kids get good doos, because of the blood connection)
My problem is that after every time I cut Mr.Blab’s hair, I forget how hard it is and next time he asks me, which is usually right before he looks like Big Foot, I agree to do it. And as soon as I stand there with my comb and scissors and try to moisten that mountain of hair, I feel half of my life run past me. The dread overcomes me, because ladies and gentlemen, he has way too much hair; I am certain, in fact, that he is the reason so many other men are bаld around the world.
I snap with the scissors and nothing seems to change. I have no idea what I am doing is what comes out of my mouth every once in a while with a nervous laugh. Its ok, as long as I have some hair – calmly responds my client and we usually laugh a lot. He pretends to be scared sometimes and is not appreciative of my assistant/s, which might be spraying him with a bottle or piling his cut hair on his pants, for example – what is this place?!
Oh, no worry, mistur, its all in bill…oups, that your ear?
By the end of it, my hands are falling off, and I am sure I patch up the last bits barely, barely. But he is always happy, bless his lazy heart.
Dodman, approved my work too.
And that is all that matters sometimes.
And then he is put to work.
I wonder who can make a blanket from all of that cut hair.