Well, I have screwed up, big time. I went to get my haircut. There was a different barber. He was shocked to see me with the head of hair I was sporting. There I am, all mangy, hair everywhere. I get in the chair, he asks me, in this nonplussed tone, how I want it, and I say, "Number 1 on the sides and back"--which was correct--"and number three on the top," which, well, let's just say it was muy, muy mal. Mucho mal. I forgot what I normally get on the top. I think it's actually the number five razor setting. The result? I am now basically bald. He started on top, and right away I was like,"Oh shit. Oh no. What have I done?" So then he does the top, and there is less hair there than on my face just about, and the rest of my hair is to my shoulders or whatever, and he's like, "want me to leave it? You could start a new look." Hilarity. He finishes the job--it took a while--and I leave, and slip on my Vaccines (the band, not the shots; there is this annoying guy in the North End whose wife is a doctor who thinks I am a walking commercial for her cause to get kids vaccinated; this guy sucks) beanie. It's a one-size-fits-all beanie. It fell off when I bent over. And if I didn't know I was in trouble, I really knew it then. I look like a thumb, a penis, an ambulatory dildo, or an egg, though I'm more columnar than ovular, at least. This is not good.
Walked three miles, climbed the Monument five times. Here is today's segment from Downtown, a discussion of the new book, Meatheads Say the Realest Things: Satire from the End of Civilization. I didn't do nearly enough today. I must push harder.
Good God I look freaking ridiculous. It doesn't matter right now. Getting out of this situation is all that matters. Still, how the hell do you manage to screw up going to the barber?