Allow me to rant off-topic for a moment: under the best of circumstances, I hate haircuts. We all have our phobias, right? Mine is sitting in a chair with a person brandishing scissors towards my hair. Especially unfortunate when I have paid said person to do said thing.
When the person seems absolutely convinced that I want angled bangs when I most certainly do not want angled bangs, “hate” becomes too mild a term. I loathe haircuts, right about then.
My male counterpart banging his head against a wall.
It took all my willpower not to jump out of the chair and brandish some scissors back at the stylist. But since I am a (basically) non-violent person, I just closed my eyes and imagined Nelson Cruz hitting a walk-off grand slam and Adrian Beltre hitting three homers in one game. My mildly-mutilated hair suddenly felt a whole lot better. Until I opened my eyes and looked in the mirror.
Don’t they look menacing?
I need some baseball therapy. Pronto.
World Series, where are you?