Story-time

My wife and I went to my friend Ray-Ray's this past Saturday for a "Mexican and Bowling" themed Valentine's Day get-together. Of course, we had a great time ... I mean, how couldn't you ... beer, margaritas, tacos, enchiladas, and bowling ... it's really a no-brainer, right?

So, because we had so much fun, Schue and I did the right thing ... we decided to stay over Ray-Ray's. Now, here's the problem - Schue loves having the tv on at night, but Ray-Ray doesn't have a tv in his guest room (why would he - he's never in there). So, I usually have to tell Schue funny (boring?) stories to get her to sleep in those occurrences.

The story I told her Saturday night almost made her puke ... not because it's disgusting, but she just couldn't stop laughing. I'll give you the shortened version of it. My mom used to cut my hair ... hey, it saved money, right? Here's the thing, though ... she used to cut my hair in the kitchen ... with the door open ... and I had to (get ready for it) .... sit on my younger brother's high chair ... I was in 6th grade, mind you! Hey - I heard ya snort!

I believe I let my mom cut my hair until I was in about 9th grade ... I started going to a "professional" barber for many reasons ... the one down the street had Playboy magazines; I couldn't fit in the high chair anymore; and my mom did an absolutely terrible job that last time - I looked like a monk.