HH left at 9:00 this morning to take the #1 son to church, buy dogfood for the fleabags, and visit my grandma. He came home around 2:00. Obviously, something was afoot. He might as well have gone to China for some tainted pet food.
HH's excuse? He went to a couple of flea markets, where he purchased...wait for it...here it comes...HH's folly...drumroll please...A BARBER CHAIR. Never mind that HH is already the proud owner of a metal-and-wood shoeshine chair that pokes me in the gut with one of its metal shoe-rest thingies every time I walk into HH's safe room. It's a room built like a safe, where HH keeps some of his treasures. Nothing of value, mind you, or family heirlooms. Just things he thinks of as treasures.
The barber chair is a bit of a cypher, as HH has not much hair, and both boys refuse to let HH ever cut their hair again, what with that unfortunate blood-letting incident, and I, by cracky, absolutely refuse to let HH anywhere near my lovely lady mullet. Why, I would sooner cut it myself at 5:00 a.m. in the dark with no mirror and endure my students' ridicule.
HH says he bought it because "Barber chairs are comfortable." Upon further investigation, it's not so much a barber chair as a salon chair. It's regular height, black vinyl, with a metal foot bar thingy. I don't know where HH plans to sit in it. He is NOT putting it in my living room. And if he thinks he's going to watch the big screen downstairs all the time, think again, Pal.
I feel like I am living in some weird music video, but without the music.
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6 comments:
Oh my lord. I am so sorry.
Hopefully he doesn't put it in the front lawn.
LMAO, OMG, a barber chair! Don't go drinkin' too much alcohol HBM, or you may just find yourself in that chair!
The barber chair sounds kinda cool, but I want to hear more about this "safe room." What exactly makes it "built like a safe"? I'm curious. I think I might want my own safe room to lock up Tim's growing arsenal of assault weapons until terrorists attack here in Petal.
I thought of you the other day when Tim came home with a botched haircut from the $8 haircut place that looked remarkably mullet-like. I tried to convince him it was fine, but his coworkers called it a mullet, and he made me cut it. I got it a little crooked in the back, and it wasn't even dark in the room when I did it.
Still beats a mullet.
Jennifer,
It wouldn't be noticed on the front lawn, what with the 5th-wheel camper that has been parked there for the last 9 years.
P.S. I have tried to comment on your blog several times, but it won't let me. It never gives me a box to write in, just resets to the same 'comment' screen every time. Like it's teasing me. Like those 'messing with Sasquatch' commercials.
Cazzie,
Yet another reason why I don't drink alcohol--so I won't be tempted to let HH cut my hair in a barber shop chair that he bought at a flea market. And I don't even want to THINK about any other reason HH might try lure me into that barber chair.
Miss Ann,
The safe room is in the basement, under the stick-out nook thingy in the kitchen. So it has 5 slabs of concrete for walls to make a little nook shape, and then the front wall is solid concrete, as it is part of the basement wall/foundation, and this part has a steel door of some type that is not actually as heavy as a bank vault door. HH has always called it The Vault Room, even back in the days when it was just a glimmer in his eye. He planned it for storing all his firearms, which are too numerous to count. But that's not what's in there. He has a fake roll-top desk with some of his things that never burnt up when his first wife set fire to his farmhouse. He also has a glass case that he has some kind of treasures in, but I can't recall what. Then there's that shoeshine chair, and two lamps, and a desk chair, and some other clutter. We still have room to rush in there when we hear a tornado headed across the front yard. The top of the safe room is supposedly steel. HH thinks it will withstand fire, but I am doubtful.
Aren't you sorry you asked?
You have to have self-confidence to wear a mullet, since even children will ask you things like whether you cut your hair in the dark without a mirror.
You need to rush right down to the local flea market and buy yourself a barber chair, silly. Then you can give your own professional mullets and not have to demulletize the haircuts of others.
You're not in a weird music video until you get attacked by Evil Mechanics / Plumbers. Relax a bit... but not so much that you get lured into the barber chair.
StewIamevervigilant,
I won't relax enough to get lured into a barber chair. Not even if somebody claiming to be an agent tries to sign my new garage band, Mommy's Got A Headache, to a recording contract. Not even if some freakish mechanical plumber conspiracy is started subliminally by a community organizer.
Thanks so much for looking out for my well-being. ;)
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