Edward Scissor Hands

I decide to get my hair trimmed (note trimmed). The lady who deals with the tresses has quit. I decide to try "Habeebs" on the recommendation of a particular someone I accidently tried to poision (with coffee!). I walk in. Everyone seems rather unoccupied. Ouch! Maybe it's not such a good idea- but it's pouring cats and dogs outside. Hence, the decision to have the tresses trimmed. Bad decision- I figure in retrospect!

Male with pink lips, effiminate mannerisms and a blond streaked hair do (which was far from inspiring confidence or style or anything positive) is to be my hair dresser. I repeatedly tell the chap ('cuase I'm wondering if he comprehends English- most hair dressers don't) that I just want a half inch trim (also 'cause I don't want my head looking even vaguely like his). Plus, I did'nt trust his sense of "style"! He mumbles something and smiles with exaggerated flourish! He's done in about half an hour. Voila! He's chopped off over 12 inches in jagged patterns to resemble what my grandmom would have reffered to as "ili thindhange" (rat eaten). I glare daggers. He smiles with all his pearly whites. I want to remove them and put them in his palm for him to count! " Whats wrong with you? I said half an inch trim! Which part of it did you not understand?" He's still smiling now looking like a weasel- moron "Madam it became a little short! What to do?" "You crazy person it's over eleven and a half inches short"(His math was even worse than mine!) " But madam, a haircut and a trim cost the same!" Your's truely is generally a very peace loving creature but at that moment all I wanted to do was poke him in the eyes and say " You see luv, this is what they call shooting daggers!"