Me: Aunty, I need a trim.
Aunty: OK OK sit here ah...
*5 minutes later*
*cellphone rings*
Aunty: Hello? Ha?! Eksiden?!! *insert incomprehensible Chinese expletives*
*snipping of hair*
*increased aggression when snipping hair*
*concerned / expletive Chinese* (one can never tell)
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Gosh. I mean, what are the odds, right? That in the 5 minutes it takes to cut my hair, some bloody bugger calls that particular bloody Aunty to tell her that some bloody accident has happened.
It's amazing how much one can do in 5 minutes. That Aunty can clamp her cellphone between her shoulder and her ear and bloody holler for 5 minutes. AND she can do it while cutting hair! Wow! Multi-tasking!
Not that I'm particularly particular of my looks, but this is like a recipe for disaster.
1. She is emotionally disturbed - and you don't want to go near an emotionally disturbed woman with a sharp pair of scissors
2. Her head is angled 45° - so my hair is either going to look good when people look at me at 45°, or not look good at all
3. Her right arm is awkwardly angled - and thus unable to perform
4. Her imagination is tainted - by images of gory flesh (and bits of hair) spattered on the road
Guess what I look like now?
*in the words of my dear roommate*
My God! Suiying! You look like a twelve-year-old! So cute!!
*black hole opens*
Somebody Save Me
