A week or so ago, a friend of mine, who is in beauty school, sent out an all-points bulletin that she needed models to come to class for a haircut.  I sent her an email and volunteered for said modeling duty.  It turns out, 8 X 10 black and white photos were not necessary.  In fact, the only thing that was necessary was that you were willing to get a haircut from someone in beauty school.  I was more than game for that.  Your Beer Commissioner doesn't lose alot of sleep over his hair.  I have no products, and don't know where my wife's blow dryer is.  In fact this morning I washed my hair with Mr. Bubble 3-in-1 no tears shampoo.  My basic hair concern is that I'm not bald, which for someone on the Express Train to 40, is really my only bow to vanity, much to Mrs. Commissioner's consternation.

I do not have a haircare regimine, and Mrs. Commissioner half-heartedly jokes with me, EVERYTIME I get a haircut, not to come home looking like I got a free bowl of soup with my haircut.  Needless to say, I was more than happy to volunteer to model, and let the lovely and talented Lara loose on my locks.  Mrs. Commissioner was not as pleased with my plans.  Now, she didn't tell me NOT to do it, but she just politely suggested it might not be a good idea.  I went anyway, because I gave Lara my word.  As an aside, at the same time, my wife was getting her hair done, at her regular stylist, who charges upwards of $38,000.00 for a haircut.  Apparently today, he was giving out cherry cake to ease the pain.

I showed up at the salon at the appointed time, and was met by a very beautiful woman, who immediately asked me, "are you a model?"  I'll let you guess how many times I've been asked that question upon walking inside ANYWHERE...I politely replied, Yes, yes I am.  She asked who I was there to see, and I said the lovely and talented Lara.  I saw Lara, there were hugs, and I was seated.  The first thing she did was give me a release form.  Really.  I had to sign a release.  Honestly, I didn't read it, but I'm pretty sure I absolved the Aveda Institute from anything they may ever do to anyone, any time, anyplace.

All in all the haircut turned out great. Lara is well on her way to being the next Christoph. But, seriously, if you've ever seen my hair, you know it is pretty hard to screw up.  So, afterwards, I called Mrs. Commissioner and asked her if she wanted to have lunch.  She told me she was about 45 minutes away from being done.  I told her I'd wait, and I actually went to the mall.  Seriously, the mall.  About 45 mins. later, Mrs. Commissioner calls, and says she's going to be a little while longer, and we decided not to do lunch.  So, I went to the food court....then things got funny....Apparently after Mrs. Commissioner hung up the phone, she decided, oh shit, I have to see my husband's hair.  She started text messaging me like a fiend, telling me she NEEDED to see me for lunch.  I think the only thing I currently like more than being called a model, is to be told I'm NEEDED by my wife.  WOOHOO!  So, I called her, and it turns out, she just wanted to see my hair. 

My wife just wanted to see if her husband looked like a 5 year old was let loose on my hair with garden shears.  So, we went to lunch, and I just drank some ice-cold Peroni's while she had some crab claws and stuff.  She decided my hair looked 'nice'.  I'm not sure what she was expecting, but she sure as hell didn't treat me like a model.  (sigh)