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Being brought up in Cornwall means that you grow up not knowing how uncool everyone is who lives there. Cornwall is always 10 years behind everyone else in terms of fashion and I was always ten years behind everyone in Cornwall. I wasn't a hip teen but then again I never wore a shellsuit or sandals. However I did do something that still brings me terrible shame when I recall it, like I did on then train to work this morning.
One day, when I was about 13-14 I went to the hairdressers. I had a specific cut in mind and in order to make sure that I got what I wanted I took a visual aid with me. I patiently waited my turn after the ladies who worked there had asked my the question "what can I do for you?". Me "a hair cut". So after sitting there for an eternity reading out of date football mags, I got the prompt to take my place in the chair. I duly sat down and got straight-jacketed by the coverall and then timidly stuck my hand out of the sides holding a crumpled piece of paper. On the paper was a promo poster for Leathal Weapon and a picture of Riggs (Mel Gibson) holding a gun, sporting a mullet.
"Can you cut my hair to be like his please?"
Awkward silence.
"Yeah right it's like good to show us what you want".
So let's analyse what I was doing. I was asking for an imitation of the worst hair style imaginable and I was expecting that Debbie, the 17 year old YTS trainee was going to be able to deliver it for me. All for the kingly price of £4.
She started to hack at my hair with the blunt implement that passed as scissors and a deep and meaningful conversation ensued.
Her: "So d'ya know Gary?"
"No. What year is he in?"
"Sixth form"
"I'm doing my GCSE's I don't know any sixth-formers."
"Do you know Jamie?"
"No. Who's Jamie?"
"He's Gary's mate, in the year above him".
"Mmmmmmngh"
"Do you know Pete?"
"No, I DON'T KNOW ANY sixthformers!".
"He's not a sixth-former, he's in prison".
"Ah for f**..."
Then when I least expected it, the clippers where nipping at my ears, shredding the back of my neck and chewing my hair up. Hold on, clippers? You can’t create Rigg's mullet (which I though was a flowing mane at the time) with clippers. What! A shiite short back and sides was the result of my efforts.
So I embarrassed myself, my family, friends, men and my country and I never got what I wanted anyway.
Please tell me you've done something this bad? Please. I can't live with the shame.
One day, when I was about 13-14 I went to the hairdressers. I had a specific cut in mind and in order to make sure that I got what I wanted I took a visual aid with me. I patiently waited my turn after the ladies who worked there had asked my the question "what can I do for you?". Me "a hair cut". So after sitting there for an eternity reading out of date football mags, I got the prompt to take my place in the chair. I duly sat down and got straight-jacketed by the coverall and then timidly stuck my hand out of the sides holding a crumpled piece of paper. On the paper was a promo poster for Leathal Weapon and a picture of Riggs (Mel Gibson) holding a gun, sporting a mullet.
"Can you cut my hair to be like his please?"
Awkward silence.
"Yeah right it's like good to show us what you want".
So let's analyse what I was doing. I was asking for an imitation of the worst hair style imaginable and I was expecting that Debbie, the 17 year old YTS trainee was going to be able to deliver it for me. All for the kingly price of £4.
She started to hack at my hair with the blunt implement that passed as scissors and a deep and meaningful conversation ensued.
Her: "So d'ya know Gary?"
"No. What year is he in?"
"Sixth form"
"I'm doing my GCSE's I don't know any sixth-formers."
"Do you know Jamie?"
"No. Who's Jamie?"
"He's Gary's mate, in the year above him".
"Mmmmmmngh"
"Do you know Pete?"
"No, I DON'T KNOW ANY sixthformers!".
"He's not a sixth-former, he's in prison".
"Ah for f**..."
Then when I least expected it, the clippers where nipping at my ears, shredding the back of my neck and chewing my hair up. Hold on, clippers? You can’t create Rigg's mullet (which I though was a flowing mane at the time) with clippers. What! A shiite short back and sides was the result of my efforts.
So I embarrassed myself, my family, friends, men and my country and I never got what I wanted anyway.
Please tell me you've done something this bad? Please. I can't live with the shame.
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the sagacious one wrote:
> I feel somewhat better now. I had my hair in a pony tail once. I
> really rocked when I was young...
Heh, up until January of this year, my ponytailed hair was down to my waist and undercut. I'm a buzzcut now, and the equation: -
Time Spent In Morning sorting hair our - amount saved in conditioner and shampoo + convenience =
A far happier chappy.
> I feel somewhat better now. I had my hair in a pony tail once. I
> really rocked when I was young...
Heh, up until January of this year, my ponytailed hair was down to my waist and undercut. I'm a buzzcut now, and the equation: -
Time Spent In Morning sorting hair our - amount saved in conditioner and shampoo + convenience =
A far happier chappy.
Pandaemonium wrote:
> A "VW" sign shaved into the back? That'll be mine. I think
> the fact that the teachers were laughing at it so much is the only
> reason I got away with it.
I feel somewhat better now. I had my hair in a pony tail once. I really rocked when I was young...
> A "VW" sign shaved into the back? That'll be mine. I think
> the fact that the teachers were laughing at it so much is the only
> reason I got away with it.
I feel somewhat better now. I had my hair in a pony tail once. I really rocked when I was young...
A "VW" sign shaved into the back? That'll be mine. I think the fact that the teachers were laughing at it so much is the only reason I got away with it.
Monkey_man has mattribute style hair.
Only mine owns you.
Only mine owns you.
I need a haircut, it's well long now. If I look right up I can feel it halfway down my back.
Got my head shaved, and being a skinny kid, I looked like an aids victim.
Or Chernobyl.
Or Chernobyl.
My Mum cut my hair like Bart Simpson's once, for an Indian wedding we went to - I was 11. And no, it didn't look one bit like Bart Simpson's hair, it fell down for a start! One hairstyle that always makes me laugh is when someone has really short hair, but has tried to make a middle parting - it looks like a squashed spider sitting atop the bonce!
Being brought up in Cornwall means that you grow up not knowing how uncool everyone is who lives there. Cornwall is always 10 years behind everyone else in terms of fashion and I was always ten years behind everyone in Cornwall. I wasn't a hip teen but then again I never wore a shellsuit or sandals. However I did do something that still brings me terrible shame when I recall it, like I did on then train to work this morning.
One day, when I was about 13-14 I went to the hairdressers. I had a specific cut in mind and in order to make sure that I got what I wanted I took a visual aid with me. I patiently waited my turn after the ladies who worked there had asked my the question "what can I do for you?". Me "a hair cut". So after sitting there for an eternity reading out of date football mags, I got the prompt to take my place in the chair. I duly sat down and got straight-jacketed by the coverall and then timidly stuck my hand out of the sides holding a crumpled piece of paper. On the paper was a promo poster for Leathal Weapon and a picture of Riggs (Mel Gibson) holding a gun, sporting a mullet.
"Can you cut my hair to be like his please?"
Awkward silence.
"Yeah right it's like good to show us what you want".
So let's analyse what I was doing. I was asking for an imitation of the worst hair style imaginable and I was expecting that Debbie, the 17 year old YTS trainee was going to be able to deliver it for me. All for the kingly price of £4.
She started to hack at my hair with the blunt implement that passed as scissors and a deep and meaningful conversation ensued.
Her: "So d'ya know Gary?"
"No. What year is he in?"
"Sixth form"
"I'm doing my GCSE's I don't know any sixth-formers."
"Do you know Jamie?"
"No. Who's Jamie?"
"He's Gary's mate, in the year above him".
"Mmmmmmngh"
"Do you know Pete?"
"No, I DON'T KNOW ANY sixthformers!".
"He's not a sixth-former, he's in prison".
"Ah for f**..."
Then when I least expected it, the clippers where nipping at my ears, shredding the back of my neck and chewing my hair up. Hold on, clippers? You can’t create Rigg's mullet (which I though was a flowing mane at the time) with clippers. What! A shiite short back and sides was the result of my efforts.
So I embarrassed myself, my family, friends, men and my country and I never got what I wanted anyway.
Please tell me you've done something this bad? Please. I can't live with the shame.
One day, when I was about 13-14 I went to the hairdressers. I had a specific cut in mind and in order to make sure that I got what I wanted I took a visual aid with me. I patiently waited my turn after the ladies who worked there had asked my the question "what can I do for you?". Me "a hair cut". So after sitting there for an eternity reading out of date football mags, I got the prompt to take my place in the chair. I duly sat down and got straight-jacketed by the coverall and then timidly stuck my hand out of the sides holding a crumpled piece of paper. On the paper was a promo poster for Leathal Weapon and a picture of Riggs (Mel Gibson) holding a gun, sporting a mullet.
"Can you cut my hair to be like his please?"
Awkward silence.
"Yeah right it's like good to show us what you want".
So let's analyse what I was doing. I was asking for an imitation of the worst hair style imaginable and I was expecting that Debbie, the 17 year old YTS trainee was going to be able to deliver it for me. All for the kingly price of £4.
She started to hack at my hair with the blunt implement that passed as scissors and a deep and meaningful conversation ensued.
Her: "So d'ya know Gary?"
"No. What year is he in?"
"Sixth form"
"I'm doing my GCSE's I don't know any sixth-formers."
"Do you know Jamie?"
"No. Who's Jamie?"
"He's Gary's mate, in the year above him".
"Mmmmmmngh"
"Do you know Pete?"
"No, I DON'T KNOW ANY sixthformers!".
"He's not a sixth-former, he's in prison".
"Ah for f**..."
Then when I least expected it, the clippers where nipping at my ears, shredding the back of my neck and chewing my hair up. Hold on, clippers? You can’t create Rigg's mullet (which I though was a flowing mane at the time) with clippers. What! A shiite short back and sides was the result of my efforts.
So I embarrassed myself, my family, friends, men and my country and I never got what I wanted anyway.
Please tell me you've done something this bad? Please. I can't live with the shame.
Page: