When Haircuts Go Wrong

So I had a plan this last weekend. Get The Wife a little buzzed up and convince her that she should give me a buzz cut. She likes my hair longer but it’s getting unruly so I figure I not only have my Amazon Rain forest-like undergrowth of hair and my slightly higher alcohol tolerance on my side to make this dream a reality. I even figured this would be great on-air content so I did a segment about it on Friday afternoon when I thought she was at work. I thought wrong.

Turns out she heard the break. And being the prankster she is played me like the fiddle I am. She made her own drinks, which in hind sight should have been my first clue that she was in on the ruse. After a few frothy bevvys I asked her what she thought of my hair and she said “I think we should cut it!” I was shocked! She brought it up! This was going to be easier than I thought!

Oh how naive I was. She told me to run and grab the clippers and she would set up the chair for my hair cut. I stumbled my way up the wooden stairs assuring myself the whole way that these damn stairs would be much easier to traverse with out socks on. I return to the kitchen with the clippers in hand to see The Wife with a chair, a towel, her cell phone on Facetime with her sister in law and a bowl.

She tells me to sit down. I do but now I’m a little weary. I get that we’re Facetiming, gotta stay in touch, but why the bowl. And then it hits me. Literally. The bowl hits the top of my head and the clippers click on and The Wife starts clipping away at the edges of the bowl. I now what is happening. I’m getting the dreaded Bowl Cut. My god what have I done. As the hairs fall to the floor and the laughs from The Wife and Sister In Law I see that there is only one thing that has happened. I played myself. Damn.

I look like Friar Tuck!