Here’s a challenge for me: Tomorrow morning, I will be getting my haircut! :O How will I make THAT interesting?? (Again). Will I have to blog lie for the first time in 229 blogs, or will I have to blog give up, also for the first time ever? (I think, it’s been a while). Perhaps even worse, will I have to describe the cutting process in extreme detail, just to up the word count? I hope not, that would either appear to be OCD (which I am, just not quite so much) or it could imply I’m sentimental and nostalgic to the point of ridiculousness. As in ‘When I got my do it was incredible. The cuts only got better and better, I must never forget them. And the scissors that were used? Perfection! I MUST go back ASAP!’ That would be pretty odd, not just for me, imagine how my barber would feel. Thank God my life isn’t so boring it would be a massive highlight. Then again, there have been worse periods of my life, I suppose.
I guess after my cut I could walk around the first street I grew up in, as it’s very close by to the barber’s. I’d love to roam around my old house, but if I asked the owner to do so, I’d obviously look like a thief, wouldn’t I? That’s the BEST scenario. At worst, I’d seem to be a dangerous stalker. Imagine if I explained to the owner that I plan on noting down everything the barber just did to me in extensive detail. I mean, that could be true, who knows? I can’t just knock on my old friend’s houses and ask them if they want to play, as again… creepy. If I knocked on their door and wanted nothing more than a conversation, that wouldn’t be too bad, as I have seen that done, but I’d need to be conscious of my demeanour. No wide smiles and no wide eyes! Contrary to reason (you’d thinking the bigger smile the more friendly, right?), that’s the kind of stuff that just makes people scared. I know, right?
A day passes…
Well, against all adversity, I did indeed get my hair cut. By adversity, I mean the cash machine I tried to use beforehand literally stole my credit card and I couldn’t get it back. Ever. I asked the staff from the shop connected to the machine for help, and they said there was nothing that could be done. Sounds like theft to me. How shifty would I sound if I took someone’s car and said ‘If you lost your car, you really need to call your insurance company. I’m not trained to answer your question. I didn’t see anything that you said happened even though I was right next to your vehicle, so how can I help?’ That would be bad, but it would be worse if I looked nervous at the time. Ok, fair enough it was me making them nervous, but that’s not the point. Only joking I wouldn’t go that far. They definitely wanted me to go away, though. I mean there was no reason whatsoever for the machine to fully take my card, all it needs to do is partially take it to scan it then give it back. The evidence really is mounting up, here.
Was my haircut paid for with money hanging around my house as festive as one may expect? Not really. But I guess all the dandruff did look like snow. As I was still mad about being cyber robbed (if not traditional robbed, which again is debatable) I wasn’t really in the mood for wandering round my old street and its newsagent after my cut, so I just went home to do some potentially very obnoxious blogging. Blogging when super annoyed is very dangerous, so I was lucky I soon calmed down. I know you’re probably thinking ‘Why are you so upset? You only lost something that didn’t cost any money and you’ll be getting a new free one in a few days…’ Oh you’re so sane, you really are. If only I was like you. That’s a genuine compliment. And on that inspirational, Christmassy note… Bye!