So I went to the Barber Shop today. Well not really the Barber Shop. I’m not sure if that’s the right name for it. But it’s that same place that skinny kid who plays in a band goes. The kid who gets what we used to call a crew cut and then goes on TV and tells everybody how good the hair cut makes him feel and look. Well anyway that’s where I went. And Trish came with me. She almost never comes with me when I go for a haircut but we were going to run an errand afterward so she came along. On our way she takes out her phone, pushes a few buttons, and when we stop at the next red light she sticks a picture of this really nice looking guy in front of my face and tells me that I should get my hair cut like him. Now I know some guys really take their hair seriously. In fact it borders on a religion with my son. But not for me. Not since 7th grade when I had this really cool curl I used to put in the middle of my forehead. So I say “sure, why not?” knowing full well that I ain’t ever gonna look like that dude when the haircut is over. I mean I took a peak in the mirror when I got out of the shower this morning. Not a pretty sight! So Trish shows the girl the picture and the girl takes me back and proceeds to cut my hair. When she’s done she tells me what shampoo to use and then shows me a jar of this special conditioner made just for my type of hair. I listened intently. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that the only product touching this head will be whatever bar of handsoap is on sale at ShopRite. So out we go to the waiting room. Trish takes a look. She didn’t say anything. She just shrugged. That “Well we gave it a shot” kind of shrug and we left. And went to the mall to walk with the old people. No one noticed my hair