So I went to this place called the hair mechanix for my haircut today. It had a menu with cuts like “valve job” and their slogan is “servicing men”. It’s like a hooters for haircuts, all the girls are dressed like they are looking for some attention and ask you if you want a beer when you sit down.
God it was so embarrassing going there with my Dad. He always has horrible foresight. The place has a big metallic sign and neon light all around the windows. And he was like, " let’s go here" even though I warned him it would be expensive and we could get a good enough haircut a minute down the road. I feel pretty bad being an adult man still being drove and paid for by my Dad. It’s so embarrassing.
Honestly it’s not a big deal. I’m sure the place itself was interesting, but being driven around/paid for isn’t a big deal. My parents still support me in a few ways. I wouldn’t have a car if they hadn’t bought it and let me pay them back for 5 years. I moved out on my own because my parents fronted me money for first month’s rent and security deposit. They still pay for my car insurance and phone, and they still buy me stuff all the time, so it’s not a huge deal to get some financial help from your parents. It’s only embarrassing if you let it be, my equivalent (as in my head forming my percieved reality) would be the fact that I feel completely unwelcome by everyone or anywhere. Even on this website sometimes.
I lived in Michigan as a kid before moving to California in the mid 70s. Don’t remember much from that time except for searching for petoskey stones on the local lakes and also the occasional tornado siren. I still remember my little brother who was very young at the time shouting “A tomato is coming! A tomato is coming!” when he heard the tornado sirens.
Oh, and for some reason I also remember my mom taking my sister and I to the local barber for what we later called the “salad bowl” hair cut and I remember the barber gave us each a saf-T-pop lollipop afterwards (those are the lollipops with the looped handle that were popular back then). The only thing uglier than that haircut were the red mary jane shoes my mom made my sister and I wear. My brother didn’t have it so easy either back then—he got a buzz cut at the barber and my mom made him wear those hideous Sears Toughskins colored jeans (they were butt-ugly when they came out in the early 70s).