Those Italian bastards at Astor Place Barber got no self-control, no self-control I tells ya. When I get a haircut, I always tell the guy that I want "an inch off and clean the rest up". I rarely have a problem. My hair is extremely easy to cut. But this guy gets on my case about an inch not being much of a difference, so I tell him take a bit more, but not too short.
Then I take off my glasses.
And I know that's a bad idea going in b'c I'm flying blind out there. And he's bought his ticket, reserved his seat on the train and this mother fucker is going to town. He didn't hold the scissors so much as brandish them with this excessive flourish, snipsnipsnip, the hair just falling off in sheets. So when all is said and done he tells me "short on the sides and long on the top". Zug? Who requested that? So now I have this Eraserhead hairdo and bear a striking resemblance to a cock.
"RiG" shirts are ordered. All my GLBT MFs will have one in time for Pride.