Inner Dialogue of a Man Getting a Haircut

All right, getting my haircut. Hairs, I guess. Dammit Brian. Do I really need one? I mean, it’s not that bad, right? And it always looks so weird right after it’s cut. Like a monkey. It’s getting in my eyes. Why am I even putting this off? I’m not a child, I can get a haircut, it’s not a big deal. Ahh but it’s just so uncomfortable, and my neck gets so itchy, that blanket thing does absolutely nothing! I’m at the door. Why am I freaking out? I am a grown man dammit.

I can get a haircut.

* * *

Why is this place full of children??? Did I accidentally walk into a children’s hair parlor? Crap, all these parents are going to think I’m a pedophile, who has this thing for children’s hair and I like to put it in my underwear and- Um. Nevermind. Why am I even having thoughts like this? I think something is wrong with me.

There are contemporary music posters on the wall, and adults getting their haircut. I think I’m good. Also… I’ve been here before. Why the hell am I freaking out? Makes no sense, haha. So stupid. It’s still better than my last salon, which was full of old ladies. Although I did get a lot of phone numbers.

“What can I help you with, sir?”

Aw, lady, no you did not.

“I’d, um, like a haircut please”

Duh.

Great. Now I’m the guy who walked in to a barbershop and asked if I could get a haircut. What else was I going to ask for? What did I do to you cashier lady, huh? WHAT DID I DO???

Is that, is that what she thought my name was? I don’t think I mumbled that much, can she not spell? My name is pretty common. Yeah there is no way that word is getting pronounced in any way that even resembles my name a little bit.

A forty-five minute wait? Dammit, I’ve put it off too long to turn back now, I look very sheepdogy. Which some people can pull off. But my hair is just way too poofy. I get this like, coconut look, which is the opposite of appealing. Maybe I can get coffee while I wait? There’s a coffee shop right next door… but no, they might call me early and skip me, or worse I might have coffee in my hand while she’s trying to cut my hair and I will just look like an idiot. What if she’s cute? Can’t look like an idiot if she’s cute. I’ll just sit here I guess. Maybe read a magazine.

* * *

Hmm, all the stylists (stylists, can I call them that? I don’t know if this place is that fancy, but they are all young white girls so I can’t call them barbers, that doesn’t feel right. I’ll stick with stylists) They are all looking at me. Hmm. Maybe I am that attractive. I’ll wink. Mistake, they seem pretty impatient, actually. They are talking, but I don’t think those sounds are language… Ok they mean me right? There’s no one else waiting… definitely my turn.

I want it short on the sides and back, over the ears, longer on top, and I want it layered and thinned. I want it short on the sides and back, over the ears, longer on top, and I want it layered and thinned. I want it short on the sides and back, over the ears, longer on top, and I want it layered and thinned. Boom. I’ve got this down. I’m a haircut pro. I’m going to tell this stylist exactly what I want, and I will get the best haircut of my life. Boom.

“So what are we doing today?”

Oh. Um. Shit. What? What’s going on? Oh shitshitshitshitshit…. What am I supposed to say? Uhhh elephant? No that’s so stupid, I’m so stupid I might as well just put a bucket on my head and paint elephant on it and then grab wooden spoons- . PULL IT TOGETHER MAN. I have nothing, absolutely nothing. Holy crap I have to say something, this silence it getting weird.

“I want it… shorter”

I am stupid.

“Haha, well you will have to be more specific than that. What kind of style are you going for?”

Oh you beautiful woman! Thank you, for giving me the chance to redeem myself! My love for you is everlasting, the universe will implode before the fire in my heart burns out! Your face is forever imprinted on my mind, and in crisp detail I will gaze upon your visage whenever I close my eyes, you lovely delicate being. I promise I will not let you down by being stupidly vague!

“Uh, just like a normal style?”

Crap.

* * *

This is the worst. She’s cutting my hair, I don’t know how it’s going to turn out, and she isn’t saying anything. It’s so weird! I feel like we should be talking, right? Other people are talking to their stylists, did I just get the one who doesn’t talk? Maybe she doesn’t like me, oh God, what did I do? Is there some kind of haircut code that I violated? A standard of conduct I eschewed? Maybe I can start a conversation, it’s not too late.

But what do I say?

There is absolutely no way I am pulling the naïve “How’s the haircut going?” so that’ s out. I know better. Ugh, personal questions are just way too… prying! It has to be small talk, I’m not trying to unearth her entire life story. I’m not the Gestapo. Did the Gestapo ask questions, or did they just kill people? Whatever, I’m not Lifetime trying to find the plot for my next made for TV movie. Much better metaphor. Why is this so difficult? It’s just talking, I talk to people all the time! The weather, can I talk about the weather? What am I going to say? The sun is shining? Horrible. She will probably cut me for that. Never upset a woman with scissors near my neck, my Father always says. I think it’s weird how much he says that. Good advice, yes, but I think he tells me at least once a week. Maybe there is something on her workstation that will help me strike up a conversation… hmm. That sticker is interesting. “Hail Satan, my lover and master” Ah. Um.

* * *

I forgot that this hair salon comes with a free “massage”. I have to accept but… yeah this is weird. She’s rubbing my back with that weird vibrating thing so disinterestedly. Like she is trying very hard to think about anything other than what she is doing. I don’t like it. Am I supposed to enjoy it? It feels sooo good, but I’ll look like a pervert if it looks like I’m enjoying it. I’ll be that guy. I don’t want to be that guy. The massage guy. I’m planning on coming back here. I’ll just sit here uncomfortably, probably? Yeah, that’s a good solution if I ever heard one.

* * *

“All done! How’s it look?”

Oh God I look like a monkey.

“It’s great thank you!”

Oh God I look like a monkey.

“That’ll be 21.50”

Oh God I look like a monkey.

“Here you go, thank you very much!”

Oh God, I look like a monkey.

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Sarcasm is Pie

Specifically, pumpkin pie. Or cheesecake. Man that stuff is good. Have you ever had it? Probably. You are after all on the computer, so presumably you are not so poor that you’ve never had pie. Seriously, if you are reading this you have no excuse whatsoever. Sell whatever it is you are reading on right now, and go buy pie. No, I don’t care if it isn’t yours. I don’t know why that would matter. Try not to be such a wuss. Regardless, this post is nowhere near sarcastic enough to equal pie, although I am trying. (Maybe that was sarcastic. You’ll never know. Also, I’m writing this in a Starbucks and I just realized I’ve been talking to myself for a good five minutes. At least I haven’t been responding… at least I think I haven’t. (I probably should stay on topic. (I’m really bad at that. (Did you know that I overuse parenthesis? (Probably, you’d have to be an idiot not to notice.))))) Whatever. Pie is awesome, and you should have some.

I am always the last person to catch up with current trends. (Have you heard about Crocs? Coolest. Shoes. Ever.) Thus it should come as no surprise to anyone that I tried Omegle for the first time the other night, at the prompting of one of my friends. (Surprising as it sounds I actually have those. Maybe. Like I said, you don’t know.) Apparently she thought I would be good at screwing with strangers over the internet. Turns out she was right. And seeing as that is the most interesting thing that I’ve done recently (Besides taking a taxi for the first time. Talk about frightening.) I thought I’d record my adventures. If you don’t want to read about that its ok because it’s not like I can stay on topic anyway.

My first impression is that Omegle has WAY less penises than I expected. I mean I only saw about 9 or 10. Needless to say, I was intrigued to no end as to WHY IN THE HELL you would want to masturbate for strangers. I mean they don’t even get paid for it. But let me back up a little bit, as I’ve just been informed that I am only third to last to follow cultural trends, and some people might not even know what Omegle is. Basically it is a website where you are connected to a strangers webcam and then you textchat while staring awkwardly at each other. It’s super great. Anyway, back to the man meat. Upon seeing my first internet penis I became determined to find out the rationale behind these actions. I became even more intrigued when I saw that these guys often seemed to have dedicated setups for this activity. Thus I relentlessly attempted to rope these guys into conversation; however, it was much more difficult than I expected. The biggest problem was that generally these guys would instantly skip me when they saw I was male. Luckily I look just homosexual enough that a few stopped but then skipped as soon as I started asking questions. I started to think that maybe these guys were insecure. (Nooooooo…) Eventually thought I found a naked man who actually seemed pretty eager to talk to me. I got the impression that he was proud of what he did. Unfortunately this was not done on my computer so I don’t have an exact copy of the conversation, but it went a little like this I believe:

Me: Mind if I ask you a few questions?

Stranger: Sure.

Stranger: Turn the camera, I want to see my whole audience.

Me: Uh huh. Anyway, I was wondering why you do this.

Stranger: Don’t you like to be hard?

Me: Not really, especially not for long periods of time.

Stranger: I do.

Me: Ok, but why here? You don’t get money or anything.

Stranger: No, no $. I just like to show off.

Me: Why do you need the approval of strangers on the internet?

Stranger: I don’t.

Me: Now you are lying to me.

Me: Did your parents not love you?

Stranger:…

Me: You should have more confidence in yourself. Don’t worry, I believe in you! It doesn’t matter that your uncle touched you when you were a kid, you can still do great things. Just stop wasting your time and you can start to accomplish things!

Stranger: Want to see me cum?

I think I really got through to him.

At this point I was really tired of looking at naked guys, so I decided to move on. That’s when I found another interesting feature on Omegle. It came through a pop-up that asked if I wanted to be spied on. Obviously, I jumped at the chance. I found myself in a place where a stranger and I could discuss a question posed by a third person who would then watch the conversation, but be unable to contribute. The question I got was “Would you rather have anal sex with a rat or a pig?” We decided that a pig would be the best choice. I, because of size issues, and he, because he decided that pig flesh felt more like human. That conversation ended pretty quickly, but always ready to make conversation I asked this stranger why he was on Omegle that fine night. He told me that he was on there to get girls. I thought that was strange and completely impossible, so I asked how much success he had had with that. He said not well, but had gotten one girl to send him a naked picture, “she was ugly fat though”. It was at that moment I realized that our definitions of “getting a girl” were different. I had wondered how he would surmount the obstacle of distance, but I guess that doesn’t really matter when you are just trying to get girls to show their breasts. Nevertheless, I had a new mission, to try and get a girl on Omegle in the classic, non-pervert sense.

As it turns out there are a lot more girls on Omegle then I had expected. That was encouraging. I had thought that every one on Omegle would kind of look the same, basically a neutral gendered blob of fat. With glasses. Maybe a penis. I should have known not to stereotype but, it’s just so much fun! There were even some pretty girls on that website (one with her shirt off, I didn’t quite get that). What’s even more surprising than that was just how successful I was. It must have been my incredible charm and wit. (Or maybe it was the combination of most of the guys on there being pervs and the fact that people are generally less reserved on the internet. Nahhhhhh, I’m just awesome.) But in all honesty I got a good number of girls (more than 5) to actually have a prolonged and flirtatious conversation with me. Poor girls. I ended up talking about everything from Reptar to Skrillex (that was the same conversation actually) talking only to girls. I even managed to rope a girl in by simply asking if she thought it was possible to pick up girls on that site. My only regret was leading on a poor little gay boy because I thought he was a girl. Sorry man. Eventually I found myself talking to Emily, and we talked for a good three hours. It turns out I’m actually a romantic at heart. Who knew?

Sincerely,

I guess that makes me one of those creepy guys who picks up girls on the internet. Hm.

PS The recommended links WordPress is offering to this post are rather disgusting. Grow up WordPress. Seriously.

Christmas is the Devil

    No it’s not. However it is an excuse. And everyone knows that excuses are the devil. But now I feel bad for saying that. Sorry God. You know I didn’t mean it. Also, experience has taught me that shocking or exceedingly strange post titles gain views. I think I have a ringer here.

So, here’s my apology, internet. I’m sorry it has been so long since I’ve garnered you with my supreme wit and insight. I know you have missed me. My excuse is Christmas, more accurately, that I’m home and have nothing to do all day. Which ironically does not lend itself to blogging. Mostly because I blog when I’m supposed to be doing something else that is probably more important. When my blog becomes my most important task well… lets just say I’m a procrastinator at heart. But here I am, giving a post on my musings of Christmas and New Years, and I have all sorts of other ideas too. Some of which may or may not find their way into this post. You know how I hate to stay on topic. Which reminds me. I love comments. Good or bad I will probably respond. And make you feel special I’m sure. (Please ignore my shameless pandering) At least I’m back to not posting before midnight. Whew. This way, I know I’m creative.

Ok, I promised some actual  content, so here it is, your basic, “these are my thoughts on Christmas”. First, if you don’t celebrate Christmas, that’s great! Happy *your specific winter holiday*. Please, tell me what it is so that I can wish you a happy *insert specific holiday here* instead of just lumping it with all the other holidays. That’s just rude. Do you really thing Ramadan and Chanukah hang out? Maybe, but that’s beside the point. (I hear Ramadan is really wild) What I’m saying is, don’t take offense for being wished the wrong holiday, thank them for trying to be specific. Jeez. People are so sensitive these days. It’s like they keep a list of things that “personally offend them” and they all have a contest to see who can have the largest list. That’s why I use a 72pt font for mine. Winning, like always.

I love Christmas, it’s true. I know it may seem like I hate everything and am secretly a psychopathic genius, but that doesn’t mean I can’t love Christmas. It’s so great, and I don’t find it stressful at all. I know a lot of people do though, so here are some tips for a stress free Christmas (for next year? I guess. I hope you can remember.) The initial stressor is always gifts. People think it’s because they can’t find the right thing, but it’s because they aren’t looking for the right thing. They are looking for an awesome thing. Which is just really unrealistic. Space shuttles, explosions, naked women, drugs, Sufjan Stevens, warm underpants, and world peace are all awesome, but for various reasons don’t make for practical gifts. (I wish. mmmmmm. Explosions.) So what you should do is find the right gift. The right gift being any gift that shows you actually put some thoughts into said recipients interests. Which is actually quite easy. My brother has been successfully giving his friends fruit for years, because it’s some weird inside joke. (true story). So there, gift giving made easy.

Not a good gift.

 

 

The other stressor is trying to make Christmas perfect. It’s not going to be, so stop trying. Seriously. STOP. Instead, trust it. Make plans, but DON’T BE SO UPTIGHT. Let things happen. It will probably still be awesome if the turkey is done 20 minutes late and Uncle Jermaine is passed out on the floor. Draw Christmas trees on his face. It’s festive. The nice thing about Christmas is that people group up, whether planned or not. And when people get into groups awesome things happen. Look at riots. Nothing more awesome than flipping cars, then lighting everything on fire. Tell me you don’t want to have a Christmas Riot photo album. Bucket list, you have been added to. (Is that atrocious grammar? I think so. And my professors would hate all these parenthesis) So people, just be ready for Christmas to happen, and go along for the ride.

Also, I suggest serving your undercooked turkey Christmas evening, not Eve, so they get salmonella the day after Christmas, which sucks anyway.

Now to New Year’s. I didn’t have a whole lot to say about it, except that I find it exceedingly ironic that it is a holiday dedicated to poor decisions (parties) and making better ones (resolutions). It makes no sense. But that’s ok, who doesn’t love a good paradox? On that subject, I think poor decisions are awesome ones. (another paradox, yay!) Mostly because they are much more fun and make for way better stories. Except people always try to brag with those stories. And it is so annoying. Stop. Just be boring. Let better people be interesting. Like me. 

Anyway, Christmas is awesome so, in your face. (Also, I’ve decide New Years might be better if I can remember it in the morning. That means no more self roofying I guess…)

Sincerely,

Dying for someone to ask me what the heck the title of this blog means. I mean seriously, how is it not killing you guys?

 

PS While my picture on my blog is super sexy, it’s much too serious. So if anyone has any ideas for a better picture (also a background for the title) please leave a comment. SERIOUSLY.

 

I am a danger to humanity. Or at least self-esteem.

Well as I “promised” (I did no such thing) here’s another post. I hope it lives up to your ridiculous expectations. You people are just so needy. Moving on I have prepared (not really, because that would require forethought) a lovely post about why people’s lives make terrible stories. That’s not this post. In fact, I’m not sure why I even mentioned it. I’m just setting myself up for some unfulfilled promises and disappointed fans. Good thing fans blow (literally). So here’s a brief story demonstrating why I shouldn’t be allowed outside, and makes me wonder why I have friends.

(My friend Ryan is wearing a coat he bought for his brother for Christmas. Also, he bought his own coat as well, he just refuses to wear it. I don’t know why. He’s stupid. Anyway, this is me asking about it)

me: I see you are wearing your brother’s coat again.

Ryan: Yes I am. I think I might just wear it when I get off the plane home!

me: You don’t really understand how gifts work, do you.

Ryan: Well we all know you like the fat coat better.

me: The one that isn’t hideous? You’re a bean pole.

Ryan: And I’m embracing it!

me: Stop it.

Ryan: So encouraging.

me: I’m encouraging you to change yourself for the better, obviously. Sometimes I don’t think you realize just how good of a friend I really am.

Ryan: I hate you.

me: Please. You’re so skinny African orphans want to give you food.

(at this point he stopped talking to me. I have no idea why. It’s not like there were any african orphans in this room.)

Sincerely,

(parenthesis are ((impossible) to (o)veruse))

 

PS: Now that I’m actually studying I will probably be even more bored. Just so you know.

This is the iCarly of blogs

You heard me. Or read me. I don’t know. I figure since it’s written if you hadn’t understood the title you would have just reread it but there’s no guarantee. “This is the iCarly of blogs” just in case you missed it. You’re welcome. What I mean by this is that this blog is a little juvenile but you like it anyway. Also its full of poorly disguised sexual innuendo, so you rethink allowing your kids to read it. You probably shouldn’t let your kids read this. If your kids can even read. I’m assuming that if you can read you would have passed it onto your kids, but even if thats not the case… maybe don’t read out loud. At least not without reading ahead. Because you never fucking know when I will just toss in profanity. Not a lot actually, but it serves a point every now and again. Like I said, iCarly is freaking sweet, and this is the blog version of that. Besides the iCarly blog anyway.

Now to the real post! (Maybe my title should have been based on that… oh well.)

*******

This is an example of what not to do.

REASONS WHY YOU SHOULDN’T START A RELATIONSHIP RIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS

Avid readers will remember that I hinted at this post in the previous one. It’s really not that hard to notice actually. As long as you aren’t too stupid. You could be, I don’t know. No judgement. Anyway, get ready for a doozie of a post full of excellent rhetoric. And it’s not even midnight, so hold on to your pants. Now to the point. People should not get into relationships right before Christmas. Its stupid, for a variety of reasons that I know, because I’ve been there. Like a boss. Anyway I decided to perform this public service so that anyone who might be thinking about entering into a relationship right now will stop it. Seriously. Stop.

Ok the first reason is obviously gifts. Its pretty easy to understand why this just causes problems. The biggest one is the fact that YOU PEOPLE STILL DON’T KNOW EACH OTHER. Which means that you can’t really give each other anything with inherent meaning. Which means you need to manufacture it. How do you manufacture meaning? With money. And you don’t have any money. I know this, because you read blogs. And so you end up stressing over how to give a special meaningful gift in order to impress your beau without having the money to pay for it. This will always end terribly. What’s worse, neither of you really care what you get so it’s all for naught. Pitiful. I regard you people with disdain.

The second reason is that you guys want to spend Christmas together. BUT YOU CAN’T. You have families. That you need to spend time with. Just because you are “honeymooning” doesn’t mean that you get to abandon your family. Even if your family is terrible. Which it is. Normally I recommend avoiding family. But in reality, you can’t, not on Christmas. This leads to a grave mistake. You will be tempted to try and combine your family and your new significant other. DO NOT DO THIS. Seriously, you need to listen to me. Because as I said before, you don’t know each other. (I decided that I’ve used enough caps for emphasis already) Which means that you will fail when his family starts interrogating you. Thus ruining you in their view. Irrevocably. Also, it’s kind of awkward at dinner to say you’ve only known each other for a week. And no one wants to meet your family anyway. Your family sucks.

The last reason is that having a significant other ruins Christmas parties and New Years Eve. These events are designed for getting embarrassingly drunk and making bad decisions that will haunt you forever. You don’t want some girl holding you back from a damaging fun time. That’s lame. Do you really want to spend the night at home in front of the fire meeting her family when you could be making out with a transvestite high on X? I didn’t think so. Unless your girlfriend/boyfriend is into threesomes. Then go for it.

The moral of the story is don’t get into relationships right now. Yes, I am right. No, there is no excuse. Ever. If you have an excuse, leave a comment. Then I can tell you why you are wrong. If you can’t handle someone disagreeing with you, maybe you should keep your mouth shut. If I have any more reasons, I will post them later. Count on it.

Sincerely,

Hemorrhoid free for three years