Don't accidentally cut my ear - I ain't got time to bleed.

"Okay, time to get your ears lowered a little bit," Paul said to me as I sat waiting in my worn leather chair.

Walking into Paul's Barber shop in my hometown was like stepping into a timeless room for men, and men only. When my brother, dad and I would get our monthly haircuts, my mom and sister weren't allowed. (Pretty sure this is a science fact.) His shop was in a mini mall or strip mall kind of place, which looked unassuming from the outside, but once you walked in you were transported to another world. Another realm where you discussed tobacco, whiskey and woodworking. Sharing feelings would get you thrown out on your pansy ass and bring great shame to your family.

One item in particular always caught my attention. Or, should I say, stack of items. Pretty much in plain view, but out of reach from 8 year old hands, was a nice tempting pile of magazines containing scantily-clad (or no clad whatsoever) women. I never got to peruse Paul's magazines, but I did use one as a writing surface when I was asking him questions for Career Day. It was just some silly assignment when I was in eighth grade. "Hey kids, just venture around our small town and interview people whose jobs you would like." Is 'no one' an option at this point? I already knew I was going to be an architect in New York City. Don't slow me down, Teach. 

Anyway, so I decided to interview Paul. I slowly walked into his shop with my terribly photocopied sheet of paper full of questions like "What is a typical work day?". As I started to write down his answers, I was struggling to not poke holes in the sheet. Paul handed me the current month's edition to use to write on. "Just don't look at the centerfold," he said with a chuckle. I wanted to appear like this was no big deal, but I was probably a sweaty mess. Mrs. Wilson would probably wonder why my paper was all wrinkled and the ink was smeared. I never got a chance to look inside either. So close, but no cigar.

So, along those lines, here are a few movies I probably shouldn't have watched as a kid.

Used Cars
Nudity, adult references, and lots of swearing. But still funny to this day. Thumbs up!

Silent Night, Deadly Night
Nudity, killer dressed as Santa Claus, that's about it, but isn't that enough?

I couldn't find a decent image for this movie. Maybe that proves my point?

Creepshow
This one is probably not as scary now, but it kinda implanted terrible nightmares in my brain as a child. I've already blogged a bit about this one. I still can't stand cockroaches.

Time for a tumbler of whiskey.
- Dapper