The Bitchy Clippers

Ever heard of this place?  (well, not my ass: though it follows me around as big as the broad side of a barn, not too many are really familiar with it…)

Comedy Cuts is a hair salon for kiddos where the walls are adorned with endearing characters like Barney, Elmo, Dora, and Thomas the train.  A place where the barber chairs are cleverly disguised as fighter jets, Barbie jeeps, and race cars. 

BUT, there are no stand-up comedians involved.  The hair stylists don’t even tell good jokes.  They don’t even smile.    I wouldn’t even call them stylists, really.  If you took the wait staff at any Waffle House, gave them all a pair of scissors, PMS, and 3 inch long press-on nails, then you’d have the bitchy clippers of Comedy Cuts.  (Hey, sounds like a great name for a roller derby team, huh?)

…And don’t get me started on their janitorial up keep, or lack thereof…

But we were already there and the twins had helmet hair.  They each took turns in the hairy red race car that sat in front of a TV silently showing Lightening McQueen NOT winning another Piston Cup.  The bitchy clippers had heard Mater tip a tractor one too many times, I guess.  The whole place was one big oxymoron.  It had all the appearance of a carnival, and the happiness of a root canal.

I’d like to site this air of depression as the reason my 2 year old decided to jump from the top of the jungle gym in the waiting area.  The little booger climbed to the top step of the slide, then got a foot hold on the bars above, hoisted himself up, and leaned his Saturn sized head over the edge, where it pulled his disproportionate, tiny hiney over and down.  He plummeted 6 feet to the tile floor below cushioned only by a film of kiddie clippings! 

BUT DON’T WORRY….the speed of his fall lessened when the left side of his face slammed into the slide on the way down.

And where was I, you ask?  Watching the whole thing, running in slow motion, twisting an ankle, and screaming while jerking the damn DUM DUM Suckers I told the twins they couldn’t have right out of their sweaty hair clad hands!

And they all just stared as I pulled the rubble of my toddler from ground zero!  Not one of the bitchy clippers asked if he was okay!  They didn’t even come over and offer assistance!  Not even an offer to call 911 or Ringling Brothers!!  THEY JUST SAT AND STARED!

After the screaming and maximum head swelling capacity stopped, he was alive and fighting to get back to the jump off point.  The twins hair looked like it was cut with a nose hair trimmer.  The contents of my purse were scattered across the wigged floor. And the skill-less bitchy clipper wanted her $27!

This was supposed to be my haircut off.  I usually cut all my men’s hair (even hubs).  But I wasn’t in the mood and thought this would be a fun after school outing. HA!  It’s back to the driveway now; the boys sitting on a pot atop a ladder, with a leaf blower to clean the clippings.

Wait!  I think I get it now.  Comedy Cuts…..the jokes on me.  We were the entertainment.  I bet those bitchy clippers are still laughing. 

May their weaves unravel and their Lee Press-ons pop off in their waffles!!!

If you dare visit the Bitchy Clippers, I recommend the following accessory: