I took Jenifer to eat at my parents’ house and felt embarrassed about their stupid sit down dinner structure after witnessing Jenifer’s parents treat her like an actual adult person. Maybe my parents still feel like they have to try and set an example for my little sister Alecia but they need to fucking relax with all of us every once in a while. My mom even gave me that same melodic teasing “Sam’s got a girlfriend” bullshit I got all through high school. I don’t mind though, Jenifer will likely be my wife one day. I think Jenifer’s nose ring scared them a lot at first and I’m glad. Shock ‘em into the nineties I say, it’s sexy on the cool. My little sister made me angry by confiding she didn’t like Jenifer as much as my old GF Melanie, but I’m inclined to think it was just the unfamiliarity of integrating a new person. I can tell Alecia is warming up to an older sister figure that treats her as an equal. I would say it’s cute but I don’t want to be too repetitious. So now our families have accepted us, what’s next?
PART II
TRAVEL, HABITS and LIFE
Hey again me! Guess what? I finally did it. I cut the long shaggy mane that I’ve been keeping in a ponytail and tucked under my Baskin-Robbins hat for too long. I finally figured out that I wasn’t going to use it to shag the ladies anymore and it’s so hot that it was no-longer convenient to sacrifice style for comfort. Cutting off the hair has been on my mind for a while and I must have been whining about it a bit, because Jenifer point blank asked me if she could cut it. Probably just to shut me up.
I could tell that cutting hair is something that Jenifer really feels like she should be able to do and that this was very important to her. Not only would I be trusting her with my hair, it would also be synonymous with the trust we have placed in each other and in this relationship. You know how girls can equate the weirdest things with the status of feelings for each other? Jenifer is a cool girl but you can’t overcome biology and female “hormonics.” “Hormonics” is my new word that mixes dynamics with hormones as pertained to females in relationships.
I did make sure to ask her about what her initial cutting approach was going to be and offered some pointers. Hey, when you are a guy with long hair you get all kinds of shit and it takes really long fucking time to grow and look halfway decent. My mom has been giving me crappy bowl cuts for years, so I’m entitled to be nervous when a hair chopping virgin is going in for their first time.
We did this the other night on the front porch of the house so I wouldn’t have to go through the trouble of finding a broom. The hair can breakdown and fertilize the lawn with its leftover traces of marijuana and LSD for all I care. I got a camera and took pictures so I could do a before-and-after kind of montage and make it into one of my art collage projects. I got the “before” picture just fine, and notice how I’ve only mentioned Jenifer attempted to cut my hair shorter. Who would have thought that it actually takes practice and a modicum of skill to merely cut hair? I sort of suspected that this might turn out badly and if I wasn’t slightly prepared to take it (“it” being my motherfucking wig) all off before hand, I wouldn’t even have brought it up as a suggestion.
We combed my long dirty blonde hair all down in the back first, making it sort of resemble a country stock-car racing fan hair-do. Then Jen took the scissors and while the hair hung in mid-air, poised for one last show of Nordic sexiness, she cut a straight line right across the back removing the longest portion all in one neat swoop. Well that was the intent anyway. In reality she fucked it all up with our dull and rusty kitchen scissors leaving me with a half chopped back head with an uneven line. A little adjusting on one side led to more adjusting on the other side until most of it was gone. The blood from my lovingly nicked ear gave it a tad bit of color and fun though. I am in love and thus my patience is near eternal. I say that as I write this later because I’m fairly sure I squealed like a stuck pig when it happened.
As any girl will tell you, the process of cutting long hair to short hair is a BIG deal that goes far beyond the actual hour or so it takes to physically cut the hair. The psychological preparation and after-effects of any radical change of appearance are predictably long-reaching for women and men, but it’s a thousand times worse for women. Cosmo probably has received a thousand tearful letters from women across the country about occurrences with hair stylists after cutting off their long locks, and most of those women have had the luxury of having their hair cut by a professional. I certainly didn’t maliciously want Jenifer to fail, more for her psyche than for the preservation of my overindulged image, but her “it looks so easy” quickly turned into apologies. Jenifer was in tears by the time she quit in frustration, thinking I was angry with her, and my fucked up grinning shaggy head wasn’t doing much in the way of being comforting.
Oh sweet Jenifer, how could I ever be angry with you?
We finally went over to her parent’s house and her mom did the best she could with what was left. Her parents thought it was funny and I thought it was funny, but Jenifer didn’t like us joking around about it that much. Obviously girls won’t dig me as much anymore, but I really don’t care if anyone else in the entire world thinks I’m attractive as long as SHE still does. In fact most of the time I wish everyone would leave me alone except her. Having short hair is like a new lease on life, easy-maintenance experience. I hardly have to use any shampoo anymore and that’s got to save some money. Money that can be spent on more Ramen noodles. HA!
Jim had his crazy childhood friend, Timothy, a guy I’ve heard a million stories about, over to the house the other night. Timothy is on of those people that are so full of energy and go-go-go, that he doesn’t always know what to do with himself. He is one of those people always looking ahead to the next thing or the next party or the next drink and if there is trouble of any sort, I wouldn’t ever be surprised to see Timothy in the middle of it. Timothy is amiable and friendly but I learned that it isn’t always smart to give acid to people with too much energy to begin with, especially if it isn’t something they are used to doing. While Jim, Jen and I were sitting down and trying to chill out, Timothy was buzzing around the house doing amped up crazy weird shit. He kept trying to show us this trick he learned about eggs.
The structure of an egg is very strong if the force attempting to break it open is applied evenly over the whole surface area. This means that you can try and crush an egg in your hand and it can withstand the pressure if you don’t get too crazy and apply the force to it evenly. I learned that in one of my old physics classes or while doing bong hits watching the Discovery channel.
Next thing I know, Timothy is in the fridge walking around crushing eggs in his hand trying to show us this “new trick”, but he was way too fucked up to do it right and he kept breaking eggs all over our house. He even broke an egg on top of Jim’s bed, which I’m sure will get pretty gross since Jim only does his laundry about once every six weeks. Yuck.
Timothy was pretty amusing at first but his shenanigans got to be very annoying, something I try to avoid while tripping my balls off, so Jenifer and I cut out of there. Poor Jim had to stay and almost baby sit the guy since it was his friend, but I think they still had fun on their own. I mean, I guess its okay for people to talk to themselves as long as they don’t interrupt themselves at the same time.
I’m going to be starting a new job at the Swensen’s up the street where my roommate Jerry is the manager. Basically I’ll be a short order cook for them, which means my fast-paced, enticing, high-paying career in the food service industry is officially in full bloom. Now if I can only get to the enticing and high-paying part of that description I’ll be on easy street. At least no one in my house will starve. I should be re-named the “Purloined Food Avenger” or some-such nonsense since I practically feed the whole house. I’m apparently the only one with enough sense to grab lots of foodstuffs everyone is sick of looking at by the time our shifts end and bring it home. After slinging pizza for so long, nobody who works with pizza wants to even touch it, much less eat it. I’ve been working at the damn Tomato longer than anyone so I just wanted some sort of new job for fucking variety.