Gut Rumbles

March 02, 2004

i did it

I had my hair cut short, shaved my beard and changed my looks today. I didn't go blonde. I went with my original hair color. The process took almost two hours and cost me $40, not counting the ten-dollar tip I gave the beautician. She did a good job.

I came home, took a shower to wash away any excess chemicals on my skin and then looked in the mirror. GOT-DAM! I wish that I had someone here to take a picture. I appear to be at least 10 years younger than I was this morning. No more silver hair. It's all dark brown now and I am totally surprised at the difference. I look--- GOOD.

I went to the Huddle House for a late lunch and Nancy, my favorite waitress in the place, didn't recognize me. I gave her my order and watched her write it down on that little note-pad that all Huddle House waitresses carry. She never gave me a second glance.

"Nancy," I asked. "Do you know who I am?"

She paused and stared at me for a moment. "Oh. My. Gawd!" she said. "Rob, you look GREAT! What did you do to yourself?"

I told her that I had my hair cut short, dyed dark brown and all of that goatee shit shaved off my face. I told her that I was chasing after my lost youth and that I almost caught that sumbitch today. "It's still ME, Nancy," I told her. "But, do I LOOK different today, or what?"

"I did not know who you were when you walked in the door," she replied. "I can't believe that one trip to the barber shop can make such a difference. Whatever you did today, keep doing it. If I weren't married already, I would run off and marry you at the end of my shift. You look FANTASTIC, darlin.'"

Well, Nancy always blows smoke up my ass, because she knows that I always tip well when she waits on me. That's why I like sitting at one of Nancy's tables. But she's also a blunt, big-assed farm girl who would tell me up-front and outright if what I did today made me look like Fido's ass. I'll take her word about the fact that I look a lot different than I did this morning. I'll take her word that the changes are an improvement.

I like Nancy a lot. She takes special care of me every time that I eat at the Huddle House. If I looked like shit, she would say so, because she's done it in the past. I've been there for a breakfast on too many hangover mornings.

That woman does not bite her tongue.

She'll keep your coffee cup full and your ashtray empty. She hustles the food as fast as she can operate. She's a damn good, hard-working waitress. And SHE told me that I looked good today.

I take that mention as high praise.