My (So-Called) Exciting Life

I had my hair cut today, which has become a weighty decision in my mind. It goes something like this…A) Do I get a crop or not? If I get a crop I'll look like I've just been released from a concentration camp, if I don't then I'll look like a paedophile.
B) Will my mum like it? If not then I'll have to put up with three weeks worth of moaning about how terrible I look.
C) Will this cut enhance my ability to attract members of the opposite sex? To be honest no haircut has ever done this, but I live in hope.
D) If I go to my local hairdressers will I get the trainee? And if I do will I be able to get my money back?
Anyway, I went in and got a “short-back-and-sides” and rather unfortunately I'm deaf as a post when I'm not wearing my glasses (for those who have 20/20 vision, you don't wear your glasses when getting a haircut). So when the whole place erupted in fits of laughter I didn't know if it was because of my rapidly growing baldspot.
(Still while I can't see it, it doesn't exist).
The best I can say is that I'm not having to brush my hair out my eyes with a pair of gloves covered in someone elses vomit.
Which is nice…

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