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Don’t you just hate having to give everyone your personal details? My wheelbarrow got a flat and when I took it to an auto shop I was asked my name, address and phone number. For a tiny job like that I wasn’t prepared to give away the farm, and quite the row ensued when I told the young lady that my name was Jesus before adding that I wanted my tire fixed and wasn’t applying for a job. Needless to say, my wheelbarrow still has a flat.
In my town it took me forever to find a hairstylist. Having previously either cut my own hair or asked friends to tackle it with clippers, I thought I’d try a few of the local salons. There were several false starts: one barber left me with the curly beginnings of a mullet which I frantically hacked off with scissors the moment I found them; and a female hairdresser, evidently confused by my request to simply cut a couple of inches off all round, actually walked away and let her assistant finish one of the worst haircuts I’ve ever had. So bad was it that at one point I was convinced that she was trying to style it in the ice cream cone fashion of Douglas Hurd (do a quick internet search if you don’t know who he is) AND my hair doesn’t even have a parting! In fact, this haircut was actually worse than one I received in the back streets of Beijing by two giggling young ladies who had evidently never cut hair before but thought they’d give it a go on a foreigner – I’m sure it made a pleasant change from selling sex out the back which was what I figured they were doing, using hairdressing as a front.
So, I went to several more hair salons in town, by now calling myself Tommy whenever I go shopping anywhere. I even have a made up address and phone number that I reuse wherever I go. This was all well and good until I found a good hair stylist. She is a nice enough woman and she cuts my hair in the same style every time. The only problem is that they think my name is Tommy; and whenever I go there everyone yells out, “Hi Tommy”. I’ve been going there for a couple of years now and have not had the balls to own up and tell them my name isn’t Tommy. I’m just dreading the day I bump into someone I know when I’m there and they call me by my real name.
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