Below is a response from my cousin, Deanne, after I wrote a blog about butchering my sister's haircut:
When Gordy and I were first married, he announced that I should cut his hair. "ME?!!!" I was sure he was kidding. He said his mother always cut his father's, so I could certainly cut his. Funny when I asked if he had his mother cut his hair, he replied with a resounding "NO!" Having brought the electric clippers home from his mother's house, he said he wanted me to try. FOOL.
I read the instructions and plugged it in. I started on the top with a scissors. "Not bad," I thought. So I guessed I could handle those clippers. I was standing at his side, and just as I took the first swipe up the back of his head, he grabbed one of my boobs. So he accidentally got a long, bald, skunk stripe. I didn't tell him just how close he was sheered. I finished the job and could barely stand to look at him the rest of the night. He showered and never said anything, apparently not having felt the highway down the back of his head.
The next day he had a meeting at the Hennepin County Government Center. He came home and asked me if there was anything I wanted to talk to him about.
I said, "No."
"Oh," he replied, "I thought we would need to talk about my haircut."
I said, "Nope. You're the one that wanted the haircut, and I didn't want to give you one, so you just had to pay the price." LAST HAIRCUT I ever gave him.
Deanne S.
I said, "No."
"Oh," he replied, "I thought we would need to talk about my haircut."
I said, "Nope. You're the one that wanted the haircut, and I didn't want to give you one, so you just had to pay the price." LAST HAIRCUT I ever gave him.
Deanne S.
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