Typing. (In Stereo.)
Last time I got a haircut was in July. The girl who normally does it is located on the other end of town, and it's hard to get an appointment with her on a Saturday, so I haven't been able to go since I started working. My hair has been getting on my nerves. Normally I wear it around shoulder length, but it had grown much longer than normal.
Yesterday I was out and about running errands when I found myself going in the opposite direction that I needed to go, so I swung into a parking lot to turn around. It happened to be the parking lot of a Supercuts. I figured I may as well just let them trim it. After all, it's $12.00 as opposed to the $40+ I normally pay. Forty bucks is a lot, but you never know what you're gonna get in a twelve dollar hair place. But I was there, so I could just let them shape it up a bit. You know, take an inch or so off until I could get to the other place.
When I walked in, I noticed that there were two stylists working. Both were African American ladies. In my past haircut encounters, three black ladies and one gay black man have cut my hair. All three of the ladies seemed to be afraid of it. They gave it a snip here and there, and when I left I couldn't tell it had been cut at all. (The man did okay. I like it when gay men do my hair.) I kinda wanted to go find a gay man somewhere, but as soon as I walked in the door one of the women greeted me, and I couldn't very well go, "Oh, I'm sorry. I was going to get my hair cut but since you're black I'm going elsewhere." So I signed the book and had a seat.
A few minutes later an old white lady came out of the back with a broom. Old white ladies are no good either. They like weird hair styles, and never understand what I'm asking them to do. The old white lady swept up the floor, then headed to the back again. A few minutes later she came out with her purse on her shoulder and said goodbye to the other two. As she was leaving, one of the ladies said, "Hey, did everyone else leave, or what?" Old white lady responded, "No, they weren't supposed to." She leaned out the door, and then stuck her head back in. "They're out there smoking cigarettes. I'll tell them you've got someone waiting." And she was gone.
Seconds later, in pranced the gayest man alive. Yes! I thought. A gay man! That's the ticket!
"Miss Ann??? Are you reddddday?"
While he cut my hair he sang along with the radio and made jokes and said things like, "Do you LUV it? I mean, do you LUV it??" in super-gay style.
Wow. A natural blonnnnnnde! I LUV it!
Thank you.
Are you from here?
No, I moved here from North Mississippi about six years ago.
Oh, wow! Do you LUV it?!?
Yeah, I like it here.
Greaaaaat!
He made me laugh, and he gave me a good haircut. (The forty dollar lady just lost a customer, I'm afraid.) I told him I just wanted it to be shaped up a bit, but he totally gave me something other than what I asked for, then said, "Well I guess I should have asked before I did that, but I LUV it!" I said that I thought it looked good. He spun me around in the chair, handed me a mirror, and said, "Do you like it?" I said I did like it, and he said, "Do you LUV it?" "Yeah. I LUV it!" "Oh Miss Ann I LIKE you! You're all laid back and like Whatever yeah let's do it!"
Yeah. That's me. LUV it!
Yesterday I was out and about running errands when I found myself going in the opposite direction that I needed to go, so I swung into a parking lot to turn around. It happened to be the parking lot of a Supercuts. I figured I may as well just let them trim it. After all, it's $12.00 as opposed to the $40+ I normally pay. Forty bucks is a lot, but you never know what you're gonna get in a twelve dollar hair place. But I was there, so I could just let them shape it up a bit. You know, take an inch or so off until I could get to the other place.
When I walked in, I noticed that there were two stylists working. Both were African American ladies. In my past haircut encounters, three black ladies and one gay black man have cut my hair. All three of the ladies seemed to be afraid of it. They gave it a snip here and there, and when I left I couldn't tell it had been cut at all. (The man did okay. I like it when gay men do my hair.) I kinda wanted to go find a gay man somewhere, but as soon as I walked in the door one of the women greeted me, and I couldn't very well go, "Oh, I'm sorry. I was going to get my hair cut but since you're black I'm going elsewhere." So I signed the book and had a seat.
A few minutes later an old white lady came out of the back with a broom. Old white ladies are no good either. They like weird hair styles, and never understand what I'm asking them to do. The old white lady swept up the floor, then headed to the back again. A few minutes later she came out with her purse on her shoulder and said goodbye to the other two. As she was leaving, one of the ladies said, "Hey, did everyone else leave, or what?" Old white lady responded, "No, they weren't supposed to." She leaned out the door, and then stuck her head back in. "They're out there smoking cigarettes. I'll tell them you've got someone waiting." And she was gone.
Seconds later, in pranced the gayest man alive. Yes! I thought. A gay man! That's the ticket!
"Miss Ann??? Are you reddddday?"
While he cut my hair he sang along with the radio and made jokes and said things like, "Do you LUV it? I mean, do you LUV it??" in super-gay style.
Wow. A natural blonnnnnnde! I LUV it!
Thank you.
Are you from here?
No, I moved here from North Mississippi about six years ago.
Oh, wow! Do you LUV it?!?
Yeah, I like it here.
Greaaaaat!
He made me laugh, and he gave me a good haircut. (The forty dollar lady just lost a customer, I'm afraid.) I told him I just wanted it to be shaped up a bit, but he totally gave me something other than what I asked for, then said, "Well I guess I should have asked before I did that, but I LUV it!" I said that I thought it looked good. He spun me around in the chair, handed me a mirror, and said, "Do you like it?" I said I did like it, and he said, "Do you LUV it?" "Yeah. I LUV it!" "Oh Miss Ann I LIKE you! You're all laid back and like Whatever yeah let's do it!"
Yeah. That's me. LUV it!
I've been going to a gay man for my hair since I was thirteen. I LUV it when he starts his ABBA cd and sings Dancing Queen. Good times. And a good haircut.
Posted by
Marshamarshamarsha |
2:26 PM