I was doing errands in the city yesterday and I got really frustrated and angry at the world on Fifth Avenue. It was windy and rainy and cold and my hair kept getting in my eyes and blowing all over the place. I passed this old-school-looking barbershop with a pole out front and everything and went in. This giant Russian bear of a man waved me over and into his chair, and started asking why I looked like a caveman with huge sideburns. I was all Excuse me, my sideburns aren’t that big.

I told him I played drums from time to time and didn’t want super short hair cuz that’s lame, and he was all Yes. Yes, I understand. I cut now.

About halfway through he put his scissors down and picked up the razor but I had kinda zoned out for a second and didn’t realize that my dude had picked up the razor and not just a dude and before I knew it BAM I looked like a member of Flock of Seagulls.

When the Russian man finished, he was super proud of himself. I don’t think he gets many requests for anything other than buzzes and fades and whatever. See? Now you can still shake! The Russian man jumped around a little and shook his head.

No, large Russian man. No I can not.