Haircuts.

I am resorting to posting a Utah picture because the picture I want to post I can't. I promised I wouldn't. So, fine, have a picture from my trip last month.

This afternoon was a complete shit show at my parent's house. Should I even refer it to my parent's house even though TECHNICALLY I still live there? What do I call it? My home life is in limbo. I'm neither here... nor there. I'm not "officially" moved in with my boyfriend but I sleep in his room every night for the past who knows how long? I think the last time I slept at home was when I had pneumonia and I wanted to suffer in my own personal tropical jungle. Either way, I guess I can call it my parent's place since right now I'm not there, my dog is with me and we're FINALLY getting our own house in October.

Uh, that ramble was completely irrelevant but I felt like I needed a background story. Point is, I was home with my parents this afternoon while my boyfriend was working on his project car and I didn't feel like laying around in bed all day while he played with grease and tools. So at one point in the afternoon my dad asked my mom for a haircut. You see, my dad is very bright man when it comes to academics but the poor man has ZERO common sense. He sees A. He sees Z. He does not see B-Y and that has routinely been a problem. He has ended up in the hospital this way many times... And he's also ended up with terrible haircuts.

Today is not the first time my dad received a hair cut from my shear-impaired mother. I don't know why after he's seen her attempt to shave her old dog, and knowing that she left him looking like road kill, why he'd ever ask once. The first time was a disaster. Today was round two of a bad hair cut. I may or may not have been home or paying attention as this haircut transpired. I honestly don't remember the cause of the shit show actually happening. I just know it did. I think it's even possible that my mom let my dad leave the house with the aftermath of the tornado of shears hit his head. Worse, I think he even trusted her enough that she did a good job that he didn't bother to look in the mirror to see how the back of his head looked. Either way, a number of hours had passed by the time I lifted my head from a bag of seaweed snacks to see my dad walking past me. When I told him to go look in the mirror over his head he immediately remembered why he does not let my mom cut his hair. Needless to say she took out ENTIRE CHUNKS OF HAIR and then left everything around it long. Ive only seen this type of bad haircut on homeless people, punks and fraternity boys during their hazing. It was bad. really, really, really bad. so bad.

Now, while I personally think my dad missing chunks of hair like he got attacked by an angry squirrel is completely HILARIOUS, it's borderline trivial. While I KNOW my dad can sometimes channel his inner village idiot and it's clear he falls into a cycle of stupid mistakes, what I want to know is, WHAT THE HELL is my mom's problem?

I mean. It's a simple pair of shears. How hard is it to shave a head? Why must one act so completely baffled at a pair of shears? It has one button for crying out loud: ON. It's not like she was given some sort of difficult piece of machinery and asked to split atoms. She was asked to give a buzz cut. I'm not entirely sure how it could possibly be such a difficult task for her but apparently it is. Either that, or my mom is a significantly bigger bitch than I thought and she did it purposely. I'd like to think it's the former but my mom is a fairly smart woman. Well, either way, I was forced to fix her fuck ups although I did request a picture of it in exchange. I might post it one of these days when my lurker parents are least expecting it.