Sometimes my impulse to do something gets the better of me.

Dennis Curran: Terry, uh you got some, uh, hairs on your head.
Me: Yes, Denny, that’s where hair goes.
Dennis: No, they’re not the same length.  Do you think next time you could, uh, do something about that?
Me: Why wait for next time, we can do it now. Denny, get a knife.
Dennis: Why?
Me: You’re going to cut my hair.
Dennis: *With a serrated bread knife* This might hurt, uh.
Me: That’s loser talk.   Grab the hair, put the knife at the right height and start sawing.

The next minute or two can only be compared to someone with Parkinson’s carving a Tourettic turkey.  Next time I cut my hair, I’m going to be a lot more careful… to make sure Dennis Curran won’t be around for the few weeks it takes for the hairs to level out.

Three weeks ago I went to the barbershop and he yelled at me for not coming in for 3 months telling me that I should come back in 6 weeks.  After letting it grow in and having the hair on the side of my head growing out in such a way It looked like I had a furry football lodge in my skull, I returned aired my grievance and he cut my hair again gratis.  I thank him and on the way out he yells to me “see you in three weeks”.  Oh, I’ll see you, I’ll see you good.