Cut my hair. I am not Samson.

Oh, yes. I got a haircut at a local Great Clips. Not the cauacphony of animalia and clipper oil that populate Tony’s of Exceslior (pictured). Great Clips is a frachise, fencing with Pro-Cuts, a new scissors on the block just across the street. I only waited a minute to have my hair taken down with a number 2 and a scissors. My stylist was detatched. Her attempts at small talk were forced and feable and in my case unnecessary. But she did the job, and I paid the bill with a healthy tip.