Carpooling home from work today, Steve was telling me about a survivor from the German side of the 2nd WW that went on to become a writer, and from what I gather, a good one. Steve told me that the guy wrote a bunch of novels, a couple of which have been made into movies, _______ and Das Boot, to which I interjected, “I’ve got Das Boot on DVD.” He continued with his story almost as if he hadn’t heard me, which was quite appropriate since I’m guessing it was obvious that my purpose was not to talk about Das Boot, but to let him know that not only am I aware that a movie called Das Boot exists, but also that I own a copy of it. I did not admit to him that I’d never actually seen Das Boot.
Actually, I might have lied and told him that I’d seen it. It’s possible that I’m remembering it wrong and my interjection was actually, “I’ve seen Das Boot.” Then, maybe instead of paying attention to the rest of Steve’s story, I was busy thinking about how I’d just lied, and how it would have been better if I’d said, “I own Das Boot,” because then I could have still sounded informed, but done so accurately. Then after deciding that this would have been better, it's conceivable that I just remembered it the better way because I like to think of myself in a positive light.
Not including this sentence, the pronoun “I” was used in this story 19 times, for a total of 7.72 percent of the words.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
The haircut
After almost a decade of cutting my own hair, I started going to a professional about two years ago. Since then, I've had regular trims by the same girl, until about four months ago when she moved away. I didn't really know what to do, so I just let my hair grow and grow until I finally couldn't take it anymore. That's when I went to Supercuts.
The lady who was working was crazy looking in an artsy way. Not a good artsy kind of way, but in a I'm-not-so-sure-I-should-let-you-touch-my-hair arsty kind of way. She was probably forty or just under, had short hair, was thin and poorly dressed, and wore turquoise eyeliner over pretty much the entire upper half of her face. She asked me my name and I when I said Kyle, she said matter-of-factly, "That's my name too." This coincidence caused me to throw caution to the wind, and I agreed to wait my turn in line.
She suggested I go to HyVee (grocery store) and kill 45 minutes or so. Since I didn't need groceries, and much prefer looking through bins of used CD's than isles of food products, I instead went next door to the CD Tradepost. I bought 3 CD's, June of 44's In the Fishtank, Low's The Great Destroyer, and The American Analog Set's Know by Heart, which I am listening too now, and enjoying quite a lot. I have heard of this band before, mostly from people comparing them to bands I like, and so was eager to pick up an album of theirs. As I listen to it, I feel like I may have missed the window in my life where this would have rocked my ass off by about 18 months or so. Which is too bad since their are fewer things I enjoy more than having my ass rocked off by a band that I've just discovered. It's happened a few times over the years (Pearl Jam in 1992, Phish in 1999, Modest Mouse in 2001 , Explosions in the Sky in 2003, Yo La Tengo in 2004, Spaceman 3 in 2006), but seems to happen less these days. I hope it's not because I'm getting old or lazy or because I'm becoming too critical. In fact, I hope it's not happening at all, and that I'm just imagining it.
When I went to the register to pay for my CD's, I told the guy that I was an "all access" member, which I am indeed. Said membership brings with it the honor of having 5 cents for every dollar you spend in the store put into an store credit account that accrues no interest, but does sit there forever, or until the internet and digital media run the store out of business (sooner that we probably think). Usually the clerk asks if I'd like to apply my store credit to my purchase, which since I hardly ever go in the store anymore, I figured I'd actually do for the first time. Well, he didn't offer and instead of asking, I just paid for the CDs like a dumbass. As I left store, I glanced down at the reciept in hopes that it would report how much store credit I had in my special all access account. Well, I should note that I've bought a lot of CD's and probably even more DVD's there over the years, and when I say a lot, I actually mean $500 worth. Yup, I've got $25 in store credit, which is exactly 5% of $500. I'm pretty sure that if some dude stacked up all the things I've bought in that store over the years and offered me $500 for them, I'd laugh my ass off at the dude's stupidity. Next time I go in there I'm getting $25 worth of free stuff, as it's the least I deserve for blowing half a grand in that dumb store.
So this all took about 45 minutes, and so it was time to be brave and get my hair cut. I planned to get it cut pretty short as summer is pretty much here, and I'm ready for a change. Well, when I told Kyle this, she said, "No, I can't do that, your hair is too awesome to cut off. How about if I just trim it a bit." We haggled a little bit, but eventually settled somewhere in the middle. She asked if I'd ever seen Sex & the City. Now, the last thing I'm going to do in this situation is admit that, "Yes, I've seen Sex & the City," so I did what any sane man would do and lied. She told me she was going to cut my hair like some character on that show, which I'm proud to say I honestly didn't know. My confidence that I was going to be happy with my hair when I left was not improving.
Now I've never really been that comfortable in a salon setting, probably for all kinds of freudian, alpha male kinds of reasons. But this haircut was more uncomfortable than most. She talked incessantly, and asked me more questions than any person should ever want or feel compelled to ask. She also kept complimenting me in ridiculous ways. Here's a few examples, with my responses (in parenthesis):
"I love it when men wear their hair long. Especially professional men. You never see it, and it's a shame (Yeah)."
"Have you ever considered becoming a model? (No.) You should, you're very good looking (silence, then thanks)."
"Did you play football? (Yes without mentioning I was a kicker) You're huge, bigger than most of my KU boys. Did you ever consider going pro? (stunned silence, then No)."
There were others, but you get the point. Eventually, she got done with my hair. She gave me $2 off and a coupon to come back. I paid in cash with the intention of minimizing the information she knew about me. My hair actually looks pretty good, although I'm not sure it's my style. Here's a poor photo taken by phone.
Overall, I felt like this woman was being way too nice, and while it seemed genuine, it was so ridiculous that it couldn't have been. She had to have been going for a nice tip and some future business. For the record, I gave her a $5 tip, which was a ridiculous 50%, making her plan work perfectly. I left there feeling pretty confident and good about myself. I discovered that I liked being complimented, even if the compliments are total fucking lies meant at getting money from me, and even if I'm totally aware of this the entire time. I'm not sure why this is so surprising, but it doesn't bother me in the least, and I say bring on the compliments. I'll even pay for them.
The lady who was working was crazy looking in an artsy way. Not a good artsy kind of way, but in a I'm-not-so-sure-I-should-let-you-touch-my-hair arsty kind of way. She was probably forty or just under, had short hair, was thin and poorly dressed, and wore turquoise eyeliner over pretty much the entire upper half of her face. She asked me my name and I when I said Kyle, she said matter-of-factly, "That's my name too." This coincidence caused me to throw caution to the wind, and I agreed to wait my turn in line.
She suggested I go to HyVee (grocery store) and kill 45 minutes or so. Since I didn't need groceries, and much prefer looking through bins of used CD's than isles of food products, I instead went next door to the CD Tradepost. I bought 3 CD's, June of 44's In the Fishtank, Low's The Great Destroyer, and The American Analog Set's Know by Heart, which I am listening too now, and enjoying quite a lot. I have heard of this band before, mostly from people comparing them to bands I like, and so was eager to pick up an album of theirs. As I listen to it, I feel like I may have missed the window in my life where this would have rocked my ass off by about 18 months or so. Which is too bad since their are fewer things I enjoy more than having my ass rocked off by a band that I've just discovered. It's happened a few times over the years (Pearl Jam in 1992, Phish in 1999, Modest Mouse in 2001 , Explosions in the Sky in 2003, Yo La Tengo in 2004, Spaceman 3 in 2006), but seems to happen less these days. I hope it's not because I'm getting old or lazy or because I'm becoming too critical. In fact, I hope it's not happening at all, and that I'm just imagining it.
When I went to the register to pay for my CD's, I told the guy that I was an "all access" member, which I am indeed. Said membership brings with it the honor of having 5 cents for every dollar you spend in the store put into an store credit account that accrues no interest, but does sit there forever, or until the internet and digital media run the store out of business (sooner that we probably think). Usually the clerk asks if I'd like to apply my store credit to my purchase, which since I hardly ever go in the store anymore, I figured I'd actually do for the first time. Well, he didn't offer and instead of asking, I just paid for the CDs like a dumbass. As I left store, I glanced down at the reciept in hopes that it would report how much store credit I had in my special all access account. Well, I should note that I've bought a lot of CD's and probably even more DVD's there over the years, and when I say a lot, I actually mean $500 worth. Yup, I've got $25 in store credit, which is exactly 5% of $500. I'm pretty sure that if some dude stacked up all the things I've bought in that store over the years and offered me $500 for them, I'd laugh my ass off at the dude's stupidity. Next time I go in there I'm getting $25 worth of free stuff, as it's the least I deserve for blowing half a grand in that dumb store.
So this all took about 45 minutes, and so it was time to be brave and get my hair cut. I planned to get it cut pretty short as summer is pretty much here, and I'm ready for a change. Well, when I told Kyle this, she said, "No, I can't do that, your hair is too awesome to cut off. How about if I just trim it a bit." We haggled a little bit, but eventually settled somewhere in the middle. She asked if I'd ever seen Sex & the City. Now, the last thing I'm going to do in this situation is admit that, "Yes, I've seen Sex & the City," so I did what any sane man would do and lied. She told me she was going to cut my hair like some character on that show, which I'm proud to say I honestly didn't know. My confidence that I was going to be happy with my hair when I left was not improving.
Now I've never really been that comfortable in a salon setting, probably for all kinds of freudian, alpha male kinds of reasons. But this haircut was more uncomfortable than most. She talked incessantly, and asked me more questions than any person should ever want or feel compelled to ask. She also kept complimenting me in ridiculous ways. Here's a few examples, with my responses (in parenthesis):
"I love it when men wear their hair long. Especially professional men. You never see it, and it's a shame (Yeah)."
"Have you ever considered becoming a model? (No.) You should, you're very good looking (silence, then thanks)."
"Did you play football? (Yes without mentioning I was a kicker) You're huge, bigger than most of my KU boys. Did you ever consider going pro? (stunned silence, then No)."
There were others, but you get the point. Eventually, she got done with my hair. She gave me $2 off and a coupon to come back. I paid in cash with the intention of minimizing the information she knew about me. My hair actually looks pretty good, although I'm not sure it's my style. Here's a poor photo taken by phone.
Overall, I felt like this woman was being way too nice, and while it seemed genuine, it was so ridiculous that it couldn't have been. She had to have been going for a nice tip and some future business. For the record, I gave her a $5 tip, which was a ridiculous 50%, making her plan work perfectly. I left there feeling pretty confident and good about myself. I discovered that I liked being complimented, even if the compliments are total fucking lies meant at getting money from me, and even if I'm totally aware of this the entire time. I'm not sure why this is so surprising, but it doesn't bother me in the least, and I say bring on the compliments. I'll even pay for them.
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