The Flock of Seagulls "Do"

Since we got a nasty surprise bill from the IRS in the last week or so, I had decided that I wouldn't get a haircut until we paid the Uncle.

Waking each morning, trying to slick down the un-slickable, I finally gave up and tried to get an appointment for a haircut only to be told there was nothing available for two weeks.

Yes, I resorted to threats of arson, robbery, blackmail, and other coercive measures. Susan, my stylist, finally said "Okay, come in on Monday at 9 AM." She followed this up with a reminder that Monday was her regular day off and that Susan was going to style my hair however she chose as part of the deal.

Whatever. I just couldn't live with it another day. When your hair looks bad, you look bad. I don't care what you put on, or even how cute your shoes are, when your hair sucks, you are not cute. The IRS be damned, I was going in for my cut and color too!

Susan is a lovely woman. I really like her. That being said, what she did to me today can only be called a Flock of Seagulls hairdo, slightly modified, but it's the same "do". From the top of my head, there came a big poof! The sides poofed up! She kept my back to the mirror so she could surprise me with her creation.

To say I was shocked is like saying "Other than that Mrs. Lincoln, how did you like the play?" This was astounding to say the least since I have very short hair. When Susan realized I wasn't
entirely pleased, she asked me, is it too poofy for you? Uh, that would be a yes, Susan.

With a lot of gel and another 15 minutes, Susan got my hair to looking more like an over the hill Country Western singer, than a member of Flock of Seagulls. Not what I really wanted, but, hey, it's a move in the right direction. Don't hate me cause I'm beautiful!