Jeff has super cuts

As my family knows I’m not a big fan of getting haircuts. I have a weird fear that they are going to make me look ridiculous. This fear was amplified about 1 year ago when my mother Joanne decided that my stepfather Rob and I had to save 3 dollars apiece to get our hair cut at the Paul Mitchell school for people who obviously need more school to learn how to cut hair. Anyway I left with what looked like a drunken college prank on my head – that is to say I was butchered. So how this plays into today’s blog is very simple; I don’t like getting hair cuts in general. In another country I’m almost guaranteed to get the minimal amount of haircuts I can while still considering myself halfway respectable due to the fact that I can’t effectively tell them how to cut my hair. Moreover, while I’m traveling I don’t really care. Here however I’m a “professional,” so I took the plunge and got one.
I start the day by doing a pretty significant amount of work for a Sunday, when suddenly I look at my greasy - wild – long - lions mop and decide I’m going to go to a barber. No don’t get me wrong, I think my golden locks of love look as good as they ever have, I just thought that I would tame the beast for tomorrow, when I have to meet all my counterparts from El Rama.
So I walk to the family recommended joint which looks really respectable and clean to find that it was packed full. The World Cup was about to start to I walked around the block to where I was positive was another Barber. Sure enough I find Roger in his absolutely filthy shack with hair covered floors and 3 happily waiting clients watching the pregame show for the Cup. I sat down anxiously waiting my turn, noticing the other client’s hair is much more simply cut with a combination 2 to 8 high top fade thing. This kind of freaked me out because not seeing his shearing skills in action before I sat down gave me some reservations. Any way I get in the chair and say please sir give me the same style just a little shorter, but not too short. He said nothing but, “so not with a machine then?” I said you got it buddy and he started my hair cut in a frantic and erratic fashion, I mean this guy was going crazy with the scissors, but when I looked in the mirror I found the half way respectable Jeff that I was looking for. He cut my neck hair and around my ears with a strait blade for good measure. Roger didn’t say much but I respect that as I never like talking to the people that cut my hair anyway.

So I had a pic but I can't find a way to place it so just imagine me even more handsome then ever, I only had to cut a few stragglers, but for the most part I think it looks pretty decent. Anyway I’m watching the game in overtime right now, I hope Holland wins. I don’t know why but I just do.