One Last Thought Before I Go

While I was waiting at the airport last night for Sara to arrive, I read more Deadeye Dick. One of the great things about reading books is that you realize there are other people, real or fictional, that think like you. Well I had such a moment and a good thought for the weekend with this section:

Thus did I prevent my brother’s fathering a child back then. Genevieve cleared out of the duplex, not wishing to be there alone with a murderer, and she and Felix never got together again. The child they had talked about having would be twenty-two years old now. The child Eloise Metzger was carrying when I shot her would be thirty-eight! Think of that.

Who knows what those people would be doing now, instead of drifting around nowhere, mere wisps of undifferentiated nothingness. They could be so busy now.

I am lucky and glad to be celebrating the beginning of my 25th year with close friends and family. I must remember, this weekend and always, not to be so busy.

Have a good Canada Day weekend. I wish you all the best and hope to see some of you soon.

Birthday Buzz

Excuse me, but your boobs are in my face. Last night I went for a haircut. I want to look snazzy for the weekend, for my birthday. I have had my share of haircuttress woes in Calgary since leaving Regina and Tracy behind. (Tracy being my ex-haircuttress.) Haircuttress. At first, I was coming home to Regina often enough that I could continue to get Tracy to cut my hair. It’s hard to find a good haircuttress. Or haircutter. Either one. Leah hates when I say haircuttress.

After it became evident that I wasn’t going to be home and I would need to get a haircut, I believe I first went to a haircuttress school and, actually, it was a guy who then must be a haircutter. He did a fine job of cutting my hair; however, I think it took him over an hour to do it. Tracy, I think, would usually take at least 30 minutes but that was mostly because we talked the whole time. So hair school was out.

The next was also another male. He was at a hair salon in a mall. The crazy thing about this guy was that he mumbled worse than anyone I have ever heard. I honestly couldn’t understand anything he said. I am not exaggerating. What was worse is that he would mumble for a minute and a half and then laugh at some joke he said. I had no clue. It was probably the most awkward haircut I have ever had. Plus, it was expensive. At least $40 and for how much hair I have it’s ridiculous. Maybe for the next video blog I should do an impression.

The next I went to a little barber shop near my house. It’s sort of like… I can’t remember the generic place in Regina—Super Cuts? It’s $20 for a haircut, which is still more than Tracy charged me, but it’s Calgary. The unfortunate thing is that the haircuttress at this small place smoked. Nothing like getting up close and personal with a smoker. Second, I happened to pop-in—because you can do the pop-in at this place—to see if I could get a cut. My regular haircuttress wasn’t around, but this woman says to another Do you want to cut his hair? The other says, I guess so, but I am not washing it. Leah happened to be with me and let a little bit loose on them for their attitude. I got my hair cut. It wasn’t nice. That other lady was also a smoker. Yuck.

Which pretty much brings you up to speed until yesterday’s haircut. Leah and I went for a walk last weekend and happened to be walking down Centre St and we see a salon specifically for men. Great! A new place to try. We walk up and they have their rates posted. $32 for a cut. Higher than the cheap, smoker place, but less than the mall. Plus, its was classy looking. And in the future I could get massages and manicures and pedicures. Classy. I joked to Leah, I bet it’s a bunch of girls with huge boobs (because it’s just for men and this is Calgary and that is what Calgary is like). I got there last night and it was an attractive, younger woman with huge boobs and cleavage to next week.

Let me ask you—what the hell am I supposed to do in this situation? I am not really interested in your cleavage or your low cut shirt, but I am interested how you acquired this rack and if you have a sugar daddy or did you win the lottery? It wasn’t like I was looking for them. I was being smothered in breasts. Look, I won’t tip you more because your boobs are hanging out, but you happened to be very nice and friendly so I will.

Anyways, I told her she could cut my hair short and I am about a millimetre off of having a buzz cut. It’s fine. Short hair suits me, she says.

Well, until the next haircut, I love it when you call me big poppa.

Being Friends With Girls

I have some exciting news. I suppose I have known about this for a week or so, but you don’t know so I am trying to pretend that I am still excited. My great friend Sara, from Florida, is flying up for the birthday which will make the weekend an international party!

Today, I want to talk about being friends with girls. Could this possible? I think so. It might be rare, but it’s very special when it happens. Girls just switch the topic to—being friends with guys—I guess.

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