I did manage to make my way over to the barbershop yesterday, for a little snip snip and buzz buzz. With my newfound interest in the TV show Mad Men I thought it appropriate that I play the part and get myself a retro barbershop haircut. I've attempted this before and last haircut I ventured closely into this territory, but this time I went all the way. When he took the clippers with only a "1" guard to my head, I felt my heart rate speed up, but now I'm totally digging it and glad I inadvertently took the plunge.
This barbershop is the real deal. There is one eastern European guy cutting hair and an old school Chicago Italian watching some movie on TV. They kinda grunt and yell at each other in the midst of asking me questions about myself. It's incredible how different conversations are at a barbershop like this as opposed to a salon where I have often found myself, but the heart of the discussion is the same. I like guys like this though. They are all at once easy to impress and never impressed. And the haircut is given in the way one would change the oil on a car. It is somewhat mechanical and scientific, never knowingly artistic or creative. It is a service that aims to please. In someways this is much safer as you know what you're going to come out with because they've done it a million times always with very similar results, but the way the haircut is approached requires little variation.
After a day of little productivity I returned home to find more things in my apartment that simply do not work. My cable Internet is out ever since the storm, which I need to just call and have fixed but then randomly a series of electrical outlets and light in my apt have stopped working. This is not related to the storm, but rather to an old building with terrible wiring. I had to move my "perishables" into my landladies fridge with the hopes that this will be incentive to get it all fixed in a timely manner. If it takes forever I'm just going to KEEP coming over for milk as often as I can. I might even just loiter in her kitchen with my head in the fridge looking around and asking her questions about all her food.
I love my apartment. But, I'm over this hassle.
Finally, this afternoon I am going on a pirate ship.
I don't have the energy to elaborate on why, but I will be taking off from Navy Pier with some other DePaul employees on a honest to God pirate ship.
More on that, tomorrow.
1 comment:
while I understand--and sympathize--that it wasn't a bona fide pirate vessel, that doesn't mean we don't still want to see some pictures. Less brow, more bow.
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