Since then I have been cutting my own hair.
... How does that work, exactly?
Anyway, I've had my fair share.
One time, this barber farted in this stuffy barber shop on a 80 degree day.
That is not the worst of it, one day I was getting my hair cut, and this particular gentlemen had the distinct odor of sweaty crotch and raw chicken.
Then there was this time my mother screwed up my hair cut when I was 5 years old, so I had to go to school the next day bald...
Hm, there's this one time when I was 7, I moved too much during my haircut, causing my hair to come out uneven; my father spent the duration of the trip home literally kicking me in the ass.
Oh wait, I can't forget about the time my cousin's boyfriend (who was apparently still learning to be a barber) cut my hair rather well; of course when he moved onto my brother he screwed his hair right the hell up, forcing him to wear a yankees cap for a while. By the way, my brother (and I) hate baseball.
Thats all that comes to mind at the moment.