Gayer by the second

Oh, you Brady kids. Instead of making prospective buyers think your house is haunted, why not just tell your parents you don't want to move? Answer: because then there would be no shenanigans, no opportunity for Alice to mug for the camera (she's really scared, folks!), and no episode. Adorable.

So yesterday, I had my hair cut.

This is not really that exciting, as it happens fairly often. (If once every couple months can be considered "often.") However, this time was different, because I actually went to something that can pretty much be considered a salon.

I walk by this place just about every day - it's on Clark just a block and a half away from my apartment. It's called halo [for men] and yes, they really do use brackets. They always have a sandwich board on the sidewalk that advertises "The Man" and I always am intrigued. My hair was getting shagadelic, so I decided to indulge my curiousity and give it a shot.

Basically, it's the gayest you can be treated and still feel (mostly) straight.

All the treatments are total spa-rific - we're talking haircut and styling followed by a shampoo and scalp massage plus a paraffin wax and hand massage. Oh, and a mini facial (which, as near as I could tell, consisted of putting a warm, slightly damp washcloth on my face. Whatever, it felt great). This is all pretty gay, or at least pretty metro.

But they go to great lengths to make sure the guys who come in still feel like dudes. Both the stylists I saw were pretty young things, they offer you a complimentary beer or other beverage when you walk in, and you can watch sports or a "guy movie" on the multiple TV screens while all this is going on. The only thing that would be better would be if you could actually play Halo. (I'm actually surprised no one's thought of this.)

All in all, it was a pretty great time. I doubt I'll make it a regular thing - I'm not used to paying that much for a haircut and a couple things happened when I got back to the apartment that made me think twice about my masculinity (which is in a constant state of being threatened anyway, as I don't really like sports or banging drunk girls).

After hearing about my experience Tara said, "Oh, that reminds me - I need to get a pedicure."

Also, I received the new International Male catalog in the mail. (Curse you forever, Keri.)

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to kill something with my bare hands to reconnect with my masculine ancestors. Where's that cat...


Ah, I could never kill Niles. We're best friends. I still like girls though.