Nice Cuts

In a previous post, I admitted that I was a self proclaimed hairstylist. Mostly because I'm too cheap to spend a lot of money on something I'm pretty sure I can do myself. Afterall, cutting hair isn't rocket science, right? It's really just an art.  And since I'm in touch with my artsy self, all signs point to the obvious: I'm probably a really good hair artist.

I've actually been cutting my own hair since kindergarten. Thanks to my Mom who was (is) a bonafide hairdresser, there was always professional hair cutting scissors around the house. If you combine the in-house salon with a cheeky child, you've got yourself a kindergartner hairstylist! Speaking of a cheeky child in my Mom's salon, there was this one time I told one of her best clients that if she didn't stop smoking, she would go to hell.  Turns out the lady never smoked a cigarette again! True story!!  But I digress. I shoulda just stuck to the evangelism and left the hairdressing to the experts.  Anyhow, sometimes my hair turns out nice...and well...sometimes, not so much. Today was one of those days.

I woke up this morning and decided I needed to cut my hair. Long story short, I started hacking, and eventually it looked like a relatively nice cut, with little choppy hack marks throughout. The more I tried "blending" in the hack marks with my dollar store thinning shears, the worse it got! I really don't know what I did wrong, as I've been cutting my own hair for over 30 years now! But whatever I did, it looked terrible! I mean, can't-go-out-in-public kind of terrible!!

I grabbed Little P, threw him in the truck and started driving up and down the streets of my city looking for a cheap decent place that might take walk-ins. Finally, I saw it. (Cue cheesy music and butterflies). "NICE CUTS," read the big homemade sandwich board. It felt like I was home! NICE CUTS. Beats the heck outta "UGLY TERRIBLE CUTS." What I liked even more was what was written on the sign:
    
     Adult Cuts (Including style): $12
     Child Cuts:                          $9
     Beard Perms:                      $20
     Eyebrow Threading:             $2.99
     Henna:                               $5 and up

The old men in turbans sitting on the bench inside the salon should have been my first clue that perhaps I wasn't in your "typical" salon. My next clue should have been the Indian bollywood music blaring out of the speakers. And if that didn't do it, the strong smell of curry and incense should have spoken to my inner self that Chatters was just a block away.

But I just couldn't get past that $12 sign! Typically a bit more than I like to pay for a good haircut, I thought I'd treat myself and splurge.  So I walked in and sat down between 2 older gentlemen in turbans who were speaking a language I couldn't understand. A tall Indian man with a beard (perhaps it was permed, see above) approached me.

Tall Indian Man: Hi. I'm Rog.
Me: Oh, like Roger?
Tall Indian Man: No, like Rajinder.
Me: Okay. I'm N, like N.
Tall Indian Man: So I'm seeing that you've been cutting your own hair.*clicking his tongue in a shameful tone*
Me (thinking fast): What? Nah. Nope. I went to Chatters last time, and someone over there did a terrible job! Can you believe it? I'm never going there again! *clicking my tongue in a shameful tone*
Tall Indian Man: Perhaps you'd be liking your moustache threaded today as well?

I pretended I didn't hear him and proceeded to sit down in a salon chair, setting Little P down on the floor beside me. Well, what happened next was shear genius! (Sorry, couldn't resist the pun!) I don't know where Raj when to hairdressing school, and frankly I don't care! He's my new favourite! Honestly, I have to say: BEST. HAIRCUT. EVER. And he's not even gay!! I know, right? I'm so excited about my new haircut that I'm never possibly never going to cut it myself again!! Raj kicks hair butt!! I took his business card, and I'm pretty sure we're going to be facebook friends now.

Yeah, they didn't call it NICE CUTS for nothing!
Oh, I almost forgot my Confession of the day:  once when I was 18, poor, and in college, I saved a McDonald's cup in my purse and used it for a month to get free refills. That is all.