I never wanted to be a barber
When I was a kid I used to hate the sight of hair being cut. My mother said I was a fool! She said the only cure for it was to become a barber.
I didn't want to be a barber anyway. I wanted to be... a lumberjack! Leaping from tree to tree as they float down the mighty rivers of British columbia 
The smell of fresh-cut timber! The crash of mighty trees! With my best gal by my side, we'd sing, SING... 
I'm a lumber jack and I'm okay, I sleep all night and I work all day!!
He's a lumber Jack and he's okay, he sleeps all night and he works all day!!
2
Comments
My barber lament
Submitted by RidingFool on Thu, 10/16/2008 - 14:46.
is about barber availability. There just aren't many good barbers to be found. When it's haircut time in the summer, I am constantly on the lookout for a barber shop when passing through a small town. If I see one, I'll stop and wander in. Many times the place will be open with only limited hours, and I must continue on my way.
The haircuts I've gotten at "beauty parlors" just don't cut it. They're overpriced, you usually get the junior girl who doesn't know shit about shinola, and she wants to wash your hair for an extra charge. Well, girlies, my hair gets a shower every morning along with the rest of me. If you can't tell that by looking, find a new line of work.
Given the fine crop of hair that has been bestowed upon me, a haircut isn't a difficult thing to accomplish. My instructions are simple: make it all the same length, part it down the middle, shape it over the ears, and, depending on how I feel, it's straight across the back or tapered.
Is that so difficult to accomplish, I ask?
Apparently.
My barber is Hungarian
Submitted by FearlessFreep on Wed, 10/29/2008 - 04:20.
I also have a Chinese doctor, a Czech dentist, an Arab shrink and an Italian singing teacher.
Toronto's a multiethnic city.
Signed,
The artist formerly known as Zorro.
Post new comment