Recently I tried out a new barber. The old barber I had was
just down the road, and I have been going to the shop itself for over 30 years
off and on. I thought I’d try a new one for a change of pace, and maybe like
The new barber Attila, is a man in his 40’s, tall and
slightly over-weight, but right off the boat from somewhere in the Serbian
Empire, with a heavy accent, and a European flair when he cuts. What’s a
European flair you ask? His arms go into an exaggerated motion as he waves that
scissor around, menacing both life and limb as he chops his way to the final
His technique for brushing you is to smack the brush against
your head then pound it until all the hair stand up, where he then blows them
off with his lips.
Ear hair is another story. Using an electric razor, he
grinds the machine into your head until he reaches hair, twisting and pushing
and pressing the razor as it totally reforms the shape of your ears. If it
comes out of your other ear, you know he went too far!
|The guy ahead of me|
Neck hair? Ha, he just applies the electric razor until it
manages to get under the skin, being the only barber to cut hair at the roots,
under the skin.
Then the most terrifying moment comes. He reaches into the
top drawer, and extracts a strait-edge razor, as I silently prayer, not sure if
this will be my last haircut or my first scalping.
When the whole process is over, I pay the man and give him a
generous tip for sparing my life, as he asks: “Do you have my business card?”
“No!” I answer.
Reaching for a business card on the counter he says: “When
you come three times, I punch the card each time and you get a half-priced
haircut. Tell your friends too. You look very nice-tell them, great haircut, half-price
4th haircut and good price!
Leaving I stopped at the drugstore for some painkiller and
the druggist says, “Nice haircut, but did somebody steal your money, you look
like you didn’t give it up without a fight!
A man walked in to a Barber
Shop for his regular haircut. As he snips away, the barber asks:
The man proceeds to explain
he's taking a vacation to Rome. "ROME?!"
says the barber, "Why would you want to go there? It's a crowded dirty
city full of Mafioso! You'd be crazy to go to Rome! So how ya getting
there?" "We're taking TWA" the man replies.
"TWA?!" yells the barber. "They're a terrible airline.
Their planes are old, their flight attendants are ugly and they're always late!
So where you staying in Rome?" The man says "We'll be at the
downtown International Marriot." "That DUMP?!" says the barber. "That's the worst hotel in the
city! The rooms are small, the service is surly and slow and they're
overpriced! So whatcha doing when you get there?" The man says
"We're going to go see the Vatican and hope to see the Pope."
"HA! That's rich!"
laughs the barber. "You and a million other people trying to see him.
He'll look the size of an ant. Boy, good luck on THIS trip. You're going to
A month later, the man comes in for his
The barber says, "Well,
how did that trip to Rome turn out? Bet TWA gave you the worst flight of your
life!" "No, quite the opposite" explained the man. "Not only
were we on time in one of their brand new planes, but it was full and they
bumped us up to first class. The food and wine were wonderful, and I had a
beautiful 28 year old flight attendant who waited on me hand and foot!"
"Hmmm," says the barber ,
"Well, I bet the hotel was just like I described."
"No, quite the opposite!
They just finished a $25 million remodeling. Its the finest hotel in Rome, now.
They were overbooked, so they apologized and gave us the Presidential suite for
no extra charge!"
"Well," the barber mumbles, "I
KNOW you didn't get to see the Pope!"
"Actually, we were quite
lucky. As we toured the Vatican, a Swiss guard tapped me on the shoulder and
explained the Pope likes to personally meet some of the visitors, and if I'd be
so kind as to step into this private room and wait, the Pope would personally
greet me. Sure enough, after 5 minutes the Pope walked through the door and
shook my hand. I knelt down as he spoke a few words to me."
Impressed, the barber pleads, "Tell me,
please! What did he say?"
"He just said: Where did you get that awful haircut?'"
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