This weekend we ran errands. Grocery store, video store, car wash. The car wash was especially cool. Not just because it's the first "real" carwash my car has had since I bought it back in '99, but because the car wash itself is one of the coolest and weirdest places in the city.
It's the kind of car wash where you pull in, tell them which package you want, then go inside and watch your car go through - first the squirty foamy soap, then the long dangly scrubbers (brush free!) that look kind of like your car is being washed by spaghetti or maybe being smuggled across the border under a vest worn by a backup singer for the Cowsills. Then the rinsing, and the drying, and the waxing, as you follow along from window to window, watching your car getting cleaner and shinier until it comes out on the other end looking like someone else's car - like a car owned by someone who remembers that cars need washing once in a while.
But that's not what's cool and weird about this car wash. What's cool and weird about this carwash is that it's like a mini mall. While your car is being scrubbed by the Cowsill vesty thing, you can grab something to eat at the lunch counter, get your shoes shined, have a massage, or get a haircut. Yes, you can get a haircut at the carwash.
Sadly, I did not partake of the carwash haircut, however tempting it might have been, because as it just so happened, I had gotten a haircut the day before, entirely on accident. Yes, I am the sort of person who gets accidental haircuts.
It all started as part of that whole errand-running thing; the video store is in the same shopping center as a SuperCuts and Husband wanted to pop in for a trim. He remarked as we went in that he hoped he didn't get the same stylist he had the last two times, because he really hated his last couple of haircuts. But when they called his name he looked relieved, so I figured it was someone different.
So, while he was getting a haircut, I started thinking that it's been a while since I've had a real haircut, which, while it hasn't been as long as my car went without a real wash, has still been a fairly long time. And during that time I've been hacking away at my bangs and the unruly bits, and thought maybe it was time to have things evened out a bit.
So, I ask for a haircut, and explain to the stylist that I've been trimming my bangs and they could use some blending to fit in with the rest of my hair, and the layers could be shortened up a bit, and she starts cutting. And when she's done, my hair looks worse than before she started, if that's possible. I explain to her that the bits right in front of my ears are too long, and go over the whole "blending in" thing again, and she argues with me that everything's fine, and proves it by brushing all my hair into my face and pointing out how it all lines up.
I then point out that while that's all well and good, I actually wear my hair brushed back, which means the bits in front of my ears are going to hang down and look really long. She argues with me again. I tell her, that's fine, I'll just whack them off when I get home and she rolls her eyes and says, "What do you want me to do - cut them?" which is a really odd question, coming from someone whose job is to cut hair.
So, she grabs the scissors again and starts cutting again, and when she's done I have very short bangs, and very short layers (except for the bits in front of my ears, which are still too long), and about three inches missing from the length - the very same length which Was Not To Be Touched, and I figure at least now I'm not paying fourteen bucks for just a trim and thank her politely and we leave.
And when we get into the car, Husband says, "I noticed you got the stylist that cut my hair the last two times."