Nada surf, Nada haircut

So, I decided that, due to the repressive heat on the East Coast this week, and to further accentuate to prominence of whatever it is that continues to grow on my upper lip, I thought I might get a haircut. Of course, I’m broke, so I figured I would try to sell this old Lightning paddle that’s hanging around my house for twenty bucks. That’s enough to get a haircut and a sweet deal for the average used kayak paddle buyer. So, I went to a couple of barber shops here in town to see how I would fare in selling my wares, or the paddle at least .


I got kinda lost look’in for a place to get my haircut. The first place I happened upon looked cool, but I realized, after banging on the door for a few minutes, that it was out of business.

There didn’t appear to be allot of kayaker-types in this neighborhood either. Regardless, I pressed on hawking that paddle to anyone who would listen. I finally found a barber shop that looked like it had pretty decent haircuts to offer and a bevy of passersby for paddle-pitch'in.


I hate to say it, but, well I didn't sell the paddle. Worse yet, I still haven't gotten my haircut. This is pretty much what happened the whole time:

I won't tell y'all what that guy threatened to do to me when he turned around. Yeah, he can talk but he's no Samurai. I'm a freak'in Samurai!!! But, hey, it's cool. Check the 'stache Joe. Even the 1970's are jealous. Aww yeah.