Monthly Archives November 2001

On My Trip to the Barber

Posted on November 10, 2001 by Porter Mason

A hair cut, please! I want this hair cut off! It’s been too long since my last cut! Almost six months! My hair is now long, and I want this to change! Take up your scissors, good fellow; take up your electric razor devices and your combs! For today is the day that my hair will be cut off! No, no thank you, I don’t require a shampoo.

Here! Here, take this picture! It is a picture of me from about a year ago! In this picture, my hair is short! My hair, in this picture, is the length I wish it to be now! Use this picture as a guide, my good barber, for it is the amount of hair I desire! Yes, the picture is me at my college graduation! I want you to magically take me back to my graduation! I want to traverse the landscape of space and time using hair as my wormhole! Snip away, noble time traveler! Snip a year off my life!

What’s that? Do I “want the back cut straight across?” Certainly! Certainly, my sweet, sweet barber! Cut the back straight across! Cut it as straight as the day is long! If I die tomorrow, and it’s an open casket funeral, and for some reason my corpse is turned on its stomach, I want people to say, “My! My, look how the back is cut straight across!” Now, I don’t know exactly what it means to have the back cut straight across, but by God, it’s the first option you gave, so you must think it the best! Cut straight, you dresser of hair! Cut straighter than straight! No, no thank you, I won’t need a shave today.

Keep the sideburns? No, no, my good man, no, my sideburns shall go the way of the dodo! My sideburns are a reminder of a time long past! My sideburns bog me down in a life I no longer wish to live! My sideburns may as well be made of lead, you sculptor of scalps, for they weigh on me as a paperweight does a stack of paper! So shave the sides, sir! Shave the sides with a steady hand!

A ha! I can see that the haircut is nearing completion! My neck guard has been loosened! My shoulders are being dusted to remove stray hairs! A mirror is being held up, so that I may view the back! It looks glorious! “Straight across” indeed! I now know what that means! Of course, I shall forget what it means by the time of our next meeting! But such is the nature of man! Is the length all right, you ask? Who knows! It looks fine to me! But I obviously have no real grasp on proper grooming, or I’d've had this wretched fur cut off weeks ago! So, yes! Yes, barber! You king of cowlicks, you monarch of mullets, you leader of the layered bob! The length looks fine! And here is your money! Here is your piece of gold for a job well done! I salute you! I bow to you! You fiddler of follicles! You manipulator of manes! You-

A tip?! Since when are you supposed to tip barbers?! “Since always“? What are…I just gave you eighteen dollars! I just paid you a dollar a minute, and you want more?! Fine! Jesus! Take it! Ya leech! Ya fuckin’ leech on society! Take your money! Jesus! This is why I get my hair cut so damn infrequently! All this extortion! Sleep well tonight, ass!

And no. No thank you. My bikini line needs no wax.

Porter

On Six Things I’d Sort of Rather Not Admit

Posted on November 11, 2001 by Porter Mason

Read these six things. Don’t judge me:

  1. I liked the movie, “Stuart Saves His Family.” I also liked “The Ladies Man,” “Night at the Roxbury,” and though I haven’t seen “It’s Pat,” I bet I’d like it too.

  2. On one side of its fortune cookie fortunes, the Chinese restaurant I used to go to always had printed: a Chinese character, its English pronunciation and translation, and the words “Learn Chinese.” But for several years, I kept reading both sides of the slip of paper as though they were fortunes. I thought they meant us to read “Learn Chinese.” the same way we read things like “Distant water won’t help to put out a fire close at hand.” I thought they were trying to pass off “Learn Chinese.” as though it were wise, sage advice, thereby potentially duping their unsuspecting clientele into learning the language. I always thought it was persistent, devious, and foolishly hopeful of the Chinese people to do so.
  3. Twice in my life, I have been scared half to death by my own hand. It happened when I was napping in a position such that one arm was behind my head. My hand was thus just barely visible in my peripheral vision, and in my groggy, half-awake state, I assumed it was someone sneaking up on me to “get” me. Of course, the more scared and excited I got, the quicker the “assailant” seemed to move his hand. Things snowballed. I became very scared. (Note: Despite the fact that I’m not a parakeet, looking at mirrors suddenly has also scared me several times.)
  4. For a large percentage of my life, I believed that the word “misled” was not the past tense of “to mislead,” but rather the past tense of the verb “to misle” which, in my mind, meant something like “to confuse or muddle.” I pronounced “misled” with a long “I” as in “MY-zeld.” I proceeded to use the word in mixed conversation quite frequently. “Sorry I was late, those directions sort of got me all misled.” No one ever corrected me.
  5. When I hear people whistling to each other on the street, as a communicative sort of thing, like making a distinct bird call sound to find each other in a crowd, when I hear that, I assume these people are communicating about me, and are trying to “get” me. When I hear the whistles, I sort of tense up, and become very aware of my surroundings, so as to be ready to fend off potential attackers. (Note: This goes along with my “Everybody Might Be a Spy” hypothesis.)
  6. One afternoon, I cried while watching a movie on cable. The movie, you ask? What movie brought me to tears in the middle of a normal summer day? Yes, that’s right: “Stuart Saves His Family.”

Remember: you promised not to judge. So please don’t. And please don’t “get” me.

Porter

On Astronauts During The 60’s

Posted on November 12, 2001 by Porter Mason

Imagine for a moment that you were an astronaut during the historic Cold War. During the “Space Race.” Imagine all the pressure you faced, both from your country and even your own family. Imagine all the physical trials you had to go through. Imagine how you constantly put your life on the line. Imagine strapping yourself to the top of a giant rocket full of jet fuel, a rocket that’s untested, a rocket that could easily blow up on take off, a rocket that you will have little control over even if it does make it off the launchpad. Imagine caring enough about your country, caring enough about discovery, caring enough about the human race to risk your life in this manner. Imagine being an astronaut during the 60′s.

Are you imagining it? Are you? Can you see yourself in their shoes? Can you comprehend what they went through?

You can? You see yourself as an astronaut in the 60′s? You’re doing it?

That helmet you’re wearing is pretty boss, huh?

Porter