Morning Dew?

Is there a female equivalent to morning wood? That was the burning question I woke up pondering this morning. I just got a $9.50 haircut. It included everything you might expect for the man unwilling to spend double digits on his grooming. The eastern european "gentleman" who was half asleep reading his newspaper when I walked in decided not to bother trying to wash the newsprint from his calloused hands but he did have sense enough to flick a switch in the backroom to ensure that I'd be soothed by the smooth sounds of sugar ray while he butchered my curly mop. Gregroy-if the nametag glued to the mirror was accurate-had a nice collection of Maxim girls cut out and taped next to the assorted glam shots. He also sipped some Lipton Brisk Iced Tea from a bottle that smelled eerily of malt liquor. The scissors he used had a nice clump of a former customer's locks wedged in them-which may not have said much of the cleanliness of the place, but at least it assured me that I wasn't the first fool to try my luck at the bargain barber. All in all though, Gregory did a decent job. Granted, upon leaving, my dry hair did not not look like a slight mullet, but after the requisite post-cut wetting, things are shaping up decently. Maybe I'll amuse myself with some more thoughts tonight as I'm trying to unwind after Tuesday night basketball. Until then, I'm out like a baseball player who failed to reach base.