Poacher went and got some new clothes the other day. Amazing stuff we let people do when we pay them. Some guy was running a tape measure over various parts of my body, squaring my shoulders, pulling on my pants and jacket, and nearly holding my hand as he was checking the cuffs in relationship to my thumbs. I normally go to a barber (a guy, not a woman in a hair stylist shop that you have to make an appointment with) who could be described as running his fingers through my hair while in the process of cutting it. (Watch it here, he’s clipping it with the scissors and comb. If needed, I can produce pictures of myself in questionable positions with woman of low moral character!)
I would (will, could have) punched any guy that would just walk up and do this. None of my closest guy friends would even be asked to do this should any kind of need arise. If I asked them, they would punch me (I’m thankful for this, believe it or not, it’s one of those defining parameters that every relationship needs).
But, somehow, if I’m paying this guy (professional), it makes it OK. Now granted, I got my hair cut by this nice-looking woman who ran her fingers through my hair, and I enjoyed it. I figured ten bucks for that treatment wasn’t so bad, so I went back again – an hour later. Oh, well, sometimes I wonder about these things, usually as I’m standing in a mirror while a guy is chalking me or sitting in a chair with an apron around my neck while talking politics.
The Disc Space Conservation Society sends their hello. They are having a picnic on August 24th over at Rebecca’s. It’ll be a bring a dish type of thing. Mock interrogations will be given in the basement. There will be a lecture on multi-volume disk reformatting later in the evening given by anyone who can pronounce it while standing on their head and crossing their eyes. Hope to see you there.
