Just some thoughts and ideas going around in my head while trying to figure out where I am and where everyone else is going.

Friday, April 25, 2008

Haircut or Relays?

When I was young, my mother would tell me to finish eating my food because there was starving children in Biafra. Today I still don’t know where Biafra is, Kenya or Tanzania I think but that’s not the point. Starvation has been around with us from since man has stood on two feet. From wars, droughts, disease and now market competition there has always been a shortage of food, and I would get into more of this if I thought more and had more information. Instead I want to talk about something that’s more important to me at this time; getting my hair cut.

The trouble with working with women is that they will be the first ones to let you know when you have a touch of the Wolf Man about you and I have reached that time again.

For the last 10 or more years I have gotten my hair cut in West Philly. It’s not really because I’m in love with the service but I go to a shop that I’m comfortable with and I see someone that I’m relaxed with touching my hair. But this weekend, is the weekend of the Penn Relays. That means that everyone and their unwed sister will be out and about trying to hook up with someone. Girls will be out shaking behinds or their boobs trying to get some dick or entertainment for the evening. And because it’s also the weekend Black Gay Pride, the men will be out shaking their behinds trying to get dick or entertainment for the evening as well. What does this mean for me?

Well I’d like to think that those days are well behind me, but I know that the barber shop will be packed with people trying to get that last minute fade. It will be packed by people trying to look cool and as attractive as they can be just to set the weekend off right. It means that I should be prepared to spend at least 2 hours waiting for a 15 minute haircut. It’s happened before.

Well, maybe I’ll just take my camera along and see how it works since the stadium, Franklin Field, is only 4 blocks away and there is usually more action going on outside the fields than inside. Maybe I’ll make it an event of it for myself.

Anyway, after that I may give my thoughts on how GM crops, farm subsidies and the interests in bio-fuels will send us and the rest of the world into a mass of confused hunger and strife. It depends on how I feel about my hair.


  1. LOL a touch of wolf man, u know i used to love watching the relays back in the day on abc. hey have a great weekend folk

  2. Thanks T - I'll try, but being surrounded by thousands of people 20 years younger than I am is really starting to make me feel old. You have a good one too.

  3. I am sure there was more action outside than inside. I hate going to the shop when there is an event about to pop off. The wait is like the line going to hell!

  4. Fuzzy - LOL like the line going to hell? Well it certainly feels that way.

  5. You know I had to visit again; your posts are really enjoyable. Too bad I couldn't cut your hair. I'd do it for free. I have two little sweet toddlers -- both boys. One, our oldest (almost 2.5 years) gets a hair cut from me once every other month (when I can't stand it anymore!) because, fine and curly as his hair is, he has the nerve to be tender headed, and would rather have dirty, matted hair than to let me comb it. Arg! I want to cut it all off, but hubby won't let me. Our youngest (almost 1.5 years) gets a fresh fade from me every week, complete with a line and all. He's dashing! Our youngest makes up for the infrequent cuts by having dimples and lashes for days.:)


  6. Michele - You reminded me that I used to get my hair cut by my mother until I was about 7 or 8 when she asked me if I wanted to grow an afro. Of course I said yes. In those days everyone wanted to look like Michael Jackson or even Jesse Jackson if you were old enough to know who he was. From that point I started to get a professional cut. I think she still misses cutting it, or maybe I just miss being cut by someone who loves me.

    Your boys don't know yet, but 20 years from now they will know how lucky they were.


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