I needed a haircut. Badly. It looked like the bastard child of Cousin it had taken residence on my scalp. So I set out to where everyone with a budget and a complete disregard for the opinions of others would go. My local Great Clips establishment.
I know, I know. Asking for a decent haircut from one of these franchise blights on the landscape is like going to McDonald's and asking for a open face club sandwich on sourdough. They'll look at you like you have three heads.....and probably shoot you.
But is it really too much to ask to at least be able to communicate with the person that is holding a pair of extremely sharp trimming shears about three inches from my eye? Yeah I am completely aware: equal oppurtunity, great melting pot.
I want a God Damn haircut, my way. Not "the best haircut I can get given the fact the I don't speak Cambodian". It gets to the point where sometimes I need a damn "safe" word just so they know when to stop. I resigned myself to the fact that under the circumstances (7PM at night, dressed like an extra from "The Big Lebowski, and my daughter in tow) I won't walk out of there looking like the Greek god I am.