My perpetual search for a cheap haircut brought me to the neighborhood of Greenlane, a small seedy ‘salon’ (anything can be called a salon these days) near a marketplace which reminded me of the porcine housewife hairdresser at Batu Lanchang I liked many years back, who gave an awesome haircut. I shouldn’t have been this naive but, what the hell.
I should’ve guessed from the signs beforehand that it’s going to be bad. First of all, the patrons there comprised of only old hags – I should have made a u-turn to get the fuck out of there, but I didn’t. The salon owner was the sole worker there, and she specializes in setting up old people’s hair. But I had to go ask if she provides a haircut, which she ardently asked me to take a seat first while she gave one of the octogenarians there a ‘blow job’ (a blow dry with a hairdryer).
The second sign, was when she asked me to help her remove a stuck extension 3-pin-sockets – you know, one of those 1-plug-to-3-sockets that allows more devices to be plugged in to the same socket. The darn thing was stuck, and there hadn’t been any guy around to remove that for her. From what I reckoned, that place hadn’t seen a male DNA for months, and I was the chosen one. I was quick to notice that she was using a 2k watt hairdryer and the socket thing basically melted the fuck off in there because of that. This is a sign that the ‘salon’ wasn’t making enough money to add extra electrical sockets and she had to resort to buy some cheap ass extenders that just couldn’t take the kind of load. I should have made a beeline to the exit, but I didn’t. I stayed on to find out how deep does the rabbit hole goes.
The third sign, was when I saw her frantically searching for her hair clipper, and its extender, which was tightly wrapped in a plastic bag that hadn’t seen light for months. This was an ominous sign that no one ever goes there for a haircut. I should have fucking elbowed her in the pancreas and take a dash or dive through the exit door. But I didn’t. I sat on the hairdressing chair like a dolt, and let the fucking biddy rape my head with all her bullshit. The end result? Was this catastrophic haircut that made me look like a cross between Ringo Starr and some traditional Iban tribals. My IQ point immediate went down 10 points when I looked into the mirror and my daughter nearly disowned me. I wanted to yell at her but, I was too shocked to do anything, so I paid and immediately left to limit the damage.
I initially thought I could just wax up my hair, but it seemed obvious to me that I was definitely going to get my ass dished to me at work by anyone who sees me. So I decided to take another trip to my other regular hairdressing place at a hypermarket (which I regularly visit, read here) and requested for an emergency ‘fix’ from the tomboy hairdresser.
“So, where did you say you got this haircut again? An Indian barber shop?”
“Worse, it was a seedy salon at a marketplace ran by an old housewife…”
*snigger* “An old housewife… well, she didn’t cut you clean… it seems… You’re lucky this can still be fixed.”
And she recommended me to go G.I. with a ‘little bit of fringe to maintain some decent style’. It was the best she could do. And I had no choice but to go along with that. That’s why I fucking sport a G.I now and I fucking deserved it for being such a goddamn retard.