I went to Knicker's XY today and got a shave and a haircut. So relaxing. It felt so nice I didn't even care that the the very talkative barber was scraping my throat with a sharp, straight edged razor while he excitedly talked about flipping houses, who the cooks were in his family, the difference between the East Side and West Side and other subjects. I kept hoping he'd quit talking but barbers and dentists seem doomed and determined to mindlessly talk to you while you are strapped in their chairs, rocked back into a wildly vulnerable position and unable to resist.
It seems vaguely sub/dom which is one reason I don't like it considering the looks of my barbers and dentists. All I want is a good maintenance proceedure but I start getting clammy thinking that any minute the guy and going to start saying, "Like it? Like it? You know you like it..." and go downhill from there.
I make a mental note to myself to find out if my sister knows anything about cutting hair and curse myself for not flossing more often.
"Like it Bitch?"
"Not really. Please crank this damn chair up and let me get the HELL out of here before you have to do a Perp Walk on the news tonight."