Haircuttus

I went to the barber again today. Yep that's right, a professional haircut on my head. I'm wearing one.

As I waited for my turn in the swivel chair I listened to the barber talk to some old mingers about swine flu and the free vaccination being offered by the government. From a small survey, listening to two old guys in a barber shop, I can safely say that the majority of the population believe that swine flu will "probably kill you but something is going to kill you and cancer will probably get you first". They both had colds. One said that he had the "90 day virus that was going around" and the other said that he got sneezed on in the supermarket. They both stressed to the barber that they did not have the pig mucus. Getting sneezed on is probably one of the worst experiences ever. A constellation of warm wet lung butter spittle all over your eyes, nose and lips. It's enough to make a man drop to his knees and pray for a stinging yellow dettol rain cloud to cleanse all pores and wage mass germicide.

Anyway, at the barber there's a massage chair. A big leather thing that probably uses the same things that makes a mechanical bull buck. I thought they were only bought by chronic masturbators who watch motor sport/Australian Idol and crank the sucker to rough road as they journey to jerky-town. There's a sign that reads"Not for pregnant women or children under 16". That's serious massage. It costs $2 for 5 minutes. The barber said that a guy came in "and put 22 bucks in and sat in the chair until it broke. He was a big fat guy and he was leaning hard into it. You gotta sit forward! Not back! He was happy though. He'd bought 60 bucks in two dollar coins and said it was still cheaper than getting one down the road". There's a place down the road called Bikini Girls. It's a massage parlour. I wonder if that's what he meant. Probably. He sounds like a perve. Who gets a massage for and hour at the barber? This country is full of creeps.