Got a haircut today (part I of like III or IV): A new hair-cutter person.

I got a haircut again today. I swung by the salon on my way to the grocery store yesterday and made an appointmet, dropping off a piece of banana bread and a piece of pumpkin bread and a piece of angel food cake in the process -- I had passed a youth group bakesale table a block up and thought I'd get some for the people at the salon -- but when I came in today, the Japanese owner was just leaving because she was feeling sick -- she put her hands together and bowed at me like a namaste when she ran into me on her way out -- and since Tennille only works on Tuesdays, instead my barber was this mid-30s-looking black guy named Diezel.

When he was cutting my hair and I was telling him what lengths of razor to use, I started telling him about how my dad cuts his own hair really short using some clipper he bought somewhere, but this summer four days before a friend of mine's wedding which he was going to, he started cutting his hair without putting the guard on and shaved down to the skin this huge swath of hair above his right ear, and so ended up wearing a baseball to the reception and tilting the bill down over his ear.

Diezel laughed, and then asked me how my dad wears his hair, so I told him how he has this big walrus moustache, and how when people ask him why he wears it that way, he says it's so if he has a nice meal, he can suck it the next day and remember it exactly. Diezel started laughing really hard at that, way too hard for how funny it is, so I asked him what was up, and he told me how just this past week a barber two doors down was telling him that he wears his moustache so that when he goes down on a lady, for the rest of the day he can scrunch up his lip (which Diezel demonstrated, smiling at the same time) and remember.

Diezel then told me that my dad probably means that, but softens the story up, which made me wonder whether he meant that my dad has been eating out my mom or has been getting some on the side. He then was saying how his friend the barber drinks liquor or chews some strong gum if he sees his woman later in the day, so she doesn't notice the smell; he said he doesn't wash with soap, because his woman would probably recognize the smell of a different soap, and you can't explain that away by saying you were playing ball with your friends or something like that, since even with that you'd be going home and taking a shower there and would smell like your own soap.

This was all going on, by the way, in the Japanese spa-styled salon, with the Japanese women in the background talking to each other and gently laughing from time to time with each other, as you often see Japanese women do.