I meant to mention that the previous post, like yesterday's, was inspired by MattW. This isn't a contest, but I challenge you to figure out WTF about Matt's post inspired me to write about unproduced scripts. I dare you. I double-dog dare you.
I don't know how old you are, but if you're more than about 20 years old, I can almost guarantee you've had more haircuts in your life than I have. To start with, I didn't have one single haircut from sometime my 11th year until sometime my 19th year. That's a lot of haircuts missed. And yes! I was an adorable little girl at my Bar Mitzvah. Facial hair was never such a welcome accessory as it was for me.
Once I started cutting my hair again, I went to a few different places before I found someone I was really comfortable with. OK, not really comfortable, but I liked the way she did my hair. What I didin't like was that she was saved! And she didn't want me burning in hell, so I got preached at during my haircuts. This inspired me to...not go very often.
Eventually, I settled into the moral imperative that I'd get my haircut "once every six months or so...whether I needed it or not". The truth is that I don't really pay that much attention to my hair. I can't remember the last time I used a blow dryer. I don't own any "Product". I get out of the shower, towel my hair dry, brush it and go. And every few months, I notice that my hair is completely out of control. Once I reach this point, it rarely takes more than two or three weeks for me to do something about it.
When I get to the salon or barber or whoever I go to that day, I either say, "Just do what you did 6 months ago", or if it's somewhere I've never been I say, "Imagine what it looked like six months ago and do that."
What you need to realize is that every haircut is an act of Supreme Faith on my part. When I get my haircut, I have to take off my glasses and I can't see shit! Really! If I squint my eyes, I can make out the shape of my head in the mirror and a variety of colors generally indicating where there's skin and hair and eyes, but no details. The person cutting my hair can do pretty much whatever they feel like doing and I'm not going to know about it until it's too late. Note to GF: Don't be surprised if one day I come home bald because if anyone ever screws it up bad enough, that's my fallback option.
Today, however, something was different. Today, I'm officially old! In addition to the usual vague instructions and pointing to indicate how long the sideburns should be, I had to (sheepishly) add two things. 1.) "See where my eyebrows are trying to eat my face? Make that stop", and 2.) "Can you do something about the shrubbery attacking my ears?" This is an utterly unacceptable state of things.
If I get a nose-hair trimmer for Christmas I may just have to jump off a building.
Edited to add: It's a damn good thing I proofed this. Otherwise, you be reading all about "More Carp Falling Out of My Head."