Mullet Man

A couple weeks ago when I listed the possible careers I had mentally tried on, I neglected to mention hairstylist. I've never wanted to be one, never even considered it. Just definitely not my thing.

This was shown to me quite clearly yesterday evening.

Eric's hair was getting pretty long, you see, and he had been to see Marsha, our favorite stylist on Saturday.
He told her to leave it a little longer than usual. Well, she kinda did that, but not exactly. She left it long in the back and cut the sides about the same way she has for the last 10 years or so. It wasn't exactly a Mullet, but damn close.

I hadn't really noticed, though. Lyssa, however, noticed, said something to him, and laughed. This was enough to convince him he needed more cut off. The catch was, he didn't want to have to go back to the haircut place to have it done, he wanted me to do it!

I protested. Told him I didn't have a clue how to cut it.
He has thick, wavy hair (well, it's not as thick as it used to be) and I just knew I'd mess up and it would end up crooked.

I may as well have been talking to a brick. He just insisted and insisted until I finally gave in.
(His insistence has gotten me in trouble a couple times. We named them Matt and Alyssa... ha ha)

So, I trimmed the back of his hair.
I shaved his neck.
He swept up the hair.

What a pain in the ass.

I think it looks like crap, although nothing like the hair in the picture (is that a hysterical photo or what??) but he said it was fine and didn't even have a hat on when he left today.
He suggested that maybe I could just cut his hair for him all the time.

I don't think so.