Say hello to Amy. She cuts my hair. For more than 20 years, I made fun of dudes who paid a lot of money to go to a salon for some woman or male homosexual to cut their hair. I grew up going to a barber shop, and I never saw any reason to go anywhere else.
All of the talent here at the station gets free haircuts, so we got a bunch of 25 dollar gift certificates one time. I never wanted to use them but my girlfriend at the time, Tara, started hollering at me to go, so I finally did. I went, she cut my hair, and it was alright. Maybe it was because I slammed two beers at the Gin Mill right before I went over there. I was just as happy going to the barber shop, but everyone else seemed to like it. Two years later, Amy still cuts my hair and is certain to gay it up every time I visit. I spend a good five minutes getting the gay out of my hair after I leave.
Amy also whips ass because her boyfriend has season tickets at Bristol, so Jason Bronis and I are heading to the night race there next weekend.
I still don't really like to tell people I go to a salon, though.
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