African Trimmings

I went for a haircut, at a local hairdresser and I was told a beautiful lady would be cutting my hair. As I was seated and prepped, an African lady larger than me with enough padding around her bottom to stuff a full lounge suite greeted me.
When she asked scissors or "that hair shearing thing what's name I just forgot" I should have smelt a rat, I said scissors of course, being adventurous
Then she brought scissors and one of those big combs the blacks with 
Afros keep in their hair
So I figured, this is a well setup hairdresser that charges R25 for a haircut so it should be ok? All true.

Right?

Hell no

She used the scissors and comb and proceeded to remove a huge chunk out of the right side of my head
Some sense returned as Danny my work colleague and friend abruptly turned and walked out laughing.
I put my specs on and did I leave? No
I told her that maybe the shearer would be better. She smiled and almost skipped off to get it
Danny came in smiling like a bloody naughty kid, it looked like he had been crying his eyes were so wet
She came back and asked if she should shave the top the same length as the back and Danny left the shop again
No I stayed, not sure if it was shock or stupidity at this stage
She used a no 4 all over and then back came the scissors
She did the round the ear bits and I prayed and apologised for all I had and would ever do.
Returneth the crying Danny

He asked my beautifully gifted hair stylist if she would mind if he could help AND SHE YES!!!
What the hell

He did a No3 round the back and sides, then asked for a No 2. He did the edges and sides AGAIN with it and I was not saying a word. I asked how it looked and I could have sworn I heard him snort

It was over.

I got a wash AFTER the haircut AND paid full price for it
As we walked out he laughed like a bloody idiot, the reason he had to use the No 2 was that on the other side to the big comb cut disaster, she had cut a stripe while trimming round my ear. The No 3 didn't remove it

Sigh. It was a real experience for the costly sum of R25.
The moral of the story once again is that Africa isnt for sissies.

Nite All.

My Idiots Guide to Raising Teenagers

Yes, you are the idiot. Accept it and you will be able to move on.
If not, read the first sentence until it dawns on you that you are, this is not rocket science.

Somewhere between the age of 13 and nineteen, supreme unsurmountable knowledge is bestowed on our angels and a level of all-knowing wisdom enters them. This will be extinguished upon them turning the ripe old age of 20 when worldly realizations of rent, work and somewhere to stay cannot be answered with mantras of "like whatever" or "just take a chill pill".

You have certain responsibilities as a parent and I will list them because like me, you do not have the capability to read and think at the same time. No, my dear fellow parent, you are not gifted.
You will work long hours, sometimes have 2 jobs to try and somehow make it to the third week of the month. You will beg, steal, borrow and refrain desperately from selling what you will consider excess body organs to keep a roof over your head, food on the table and purchase school items needed over and above school fees.

Clothing, torn costs more because it looks cool, so do not try to discuss it or refer to it as damaged or second hand, It does not matter that costs a fortune or is so cheap that the item may appear stolen, if it doesn't form part of an outfit it will be shunned, unless it is so desirable that all life on the planet will cease if it is not acquired. Are you following you me so far? Good.
This applies to the male and female teenage species and now we move onto the next item on the list, hair. We need to have access to enough products to survive a holocaust and must have both straighteners and curlers, branding is of the utmost importance because you, and I quote "can like to ruin your hair and like go bald early". Correct me if I misunderstand this, the hippies from my era had amazing hair, long and unkept and washed infrequently, did I imagine this? When mentioned that I used to just wear a cap when I overslept and didn't have time for a shower in my youth, I feel that somehow I am about to be swallowed up by the hair gods and spat out in a hell where there are no brushes, comb, shampoo or conditioner.

The environment is "super" important, UNLESS it somehow affects our sense of dress, hair, music, food to mention a few. More deodorant is spent in one session than I use in a week and I have a neutral body odour. Oh and have I mentioned the rolling of the eyes, the hand over the eyes and shaking head and the proverbial open mouth dropped jaw looks that you will receive as a parent? They are merely expressions of amazement and hero-worship for some act that you have carried out to be remembered forever and discussed with their peers. "You are SO not gonna believe what my Dad did in the shopping centre yesterday!" See, pride and acknowledgement.

So dear parent, how do you cope with this alien that has been forced upon you?
You love it, feed and clothe it and don't attempt to understand it. We are all in need of unconditional love without judgement, however this doesn't not mean allowing them free reign over your world. By no means, your house so your rules and consequences for actions.

Nite All