So when I first moved home I was stoked because I could go back to my favorite barber. He was old as all hell and still would give hot towel shaves. Most of the time he was so happy that a younger person, was keeping up an old barber tradition he wouldn’t charge me.

However a few months ago (the last time I got a hair cut) he totally jumped the shark. He cut the hell out of my face… bad there were like three different spots tour up on my face. So I have been dealing with the dilemma of finding a new barber. Which I hate because I don’t like people talking to me when the cut my hair. I want their undivided attention focused on the job at hand.

So now that I have waited until I absolutely need to cut my hair, I have found my new barber.

Mom was less than happy when she came home and saw me.

Pics on the way.