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Baby Swings For Cheap

baby swings for cheap

The Hair Cut

The Hair Cut

Poor Mr. Teen. He's got a ridiculously cheap mum when it comes to haircuts. I used to cut his hair until about 4 months ago, when I suddenly lost my magic grip and failed. A Dark and Gloomy Mr. Teen came home from school: "YOU said this looked great! Nobody else thinks so!! YOU are SO NOT cutting my hair ANYMORE".. and the rest of that afternoon was spent at the mall, waiting for an emergency appointment for Mr. Teen. At least it was fixable. "You're so out of touch, mum" Mr. Teen said, happy, tipping his new stylist.

Back in Norway, his hair grew FAST. And now he needed a new cut. He's starting at a new school tomorrow, after some careful consideration from both his and my side. You've got to be good looking when there are new ladies to impress. Mr. Teen realized this, but the official reasoning was that "grandma thinks my hair is too long". So off we went, last minute, of course, to the barber.

Mr. Teen swings into the chair. "I only take cash" says the barber. "Oh!" I look around. No card terminal..? It's certainly a bit simple, almost shabby in here... and no sink? Is he not going to wash Mr. Teen's hair? I suddenly feel pity for the barber. Mr. Teen's hair is quite a la cement these days- I wouldn't touch it myself. "I'll go to the ATM" I tell Mr. Teen. "We'll cut it not too short, and if it's too long when we're back, we'll cut it shorter!" shouts the barber after me.

When I come back, Mr. Teen's head is BARE. There's like no hair left, except a massive lump over his forehead. The barber is carefully chopping away, the lump of hair shrinks to way above Mr. Teen's eyebrows.

Via the mirror, I stare at Mr. Teen in disbelief before I fall into the waiting chair. He appears unaffected. "Jesus!" I scream inside - "His new classmates are going to tease him! He's going to be the chopped up kid! They're going to have him for lunch on his FIRST day!!!!" I can hardly poor baby! I swear I'll never ever EVER be cheap with his hair cut EVER again. Vidal Sasson, meet mr. Teen.

"A little bit of this" asks the barber, pointing to the jar of gel. Mr. Teen shrinks in the seat. "Yes, a little bit, please" I yelp, hoping it might help masquerade the short short short cut. "MUM!" sighs Mr. Teen., "SPEAK NORWEGIAN!!!"

I didn't even realize I had responded in English. The barber laughs and smoothes Mr. Teens left over hair tightly over his forehead.
I leap out of my chair, grab his hair with both my hands and mess it up as best I can. "There!" I say quickly. "It's kind of cool with that tousled look!"

Mr. Teen gets it. He shakes his head and lifts his eyebrows. They've got plenty of room to tumble now.
We pay the barber and leave.

Outside, I ask Mr. Teen carefully if his hair is to short. "It's cool" he smiles. "Don't worry!" I'm not sure what to say. His hair is SHORT.

"By the way," he says, pointing at me,"I've noticed that when you're scared senseless, you start speaking English."

Fairytale of New York

Fairytale of New York

It was Christmas Eve babe
In the drunk tank
An old man said to me, won't see another one
And then he sang a song
The Rare Old Mountain Dew
I turned my face away
And dreamed about you

Got on a lucky one
Came in eighteen to one
I've got a feeling
This year's for me and you
So happy Christmas
I love you baby
I can see a better time
When all our dreams come true

They've got cars big as bars
They've got rivers of gold
But the wind goes right through you
It's no place for the old
When you first took my hand
On a cold Christmas Eve
You promised me
Broadway was waiting for me

You were handsome
You were pretty
Queen of New York City
When the band finished playing
They howled out for more
Sinatra was swinging,
All the drunks they were singing
We kissed on a corner
Then danced through the night

The boys of the NYPD choir
Were singing "Galway Bay"
And the bells were ringing out
For Christmas day

You're a bum
You're a punk
You're an old slut on junk
Lying there almost dead on a drip in that bed
You scumbag, you maggot
You cheap lousy faggot
Happy Christmas your arse
I pray God it's our last

I could have been someone
Well so could anyone
You took my dreams from me
When I first found you
I kept them with me babe
I put them with my own
Can't make it all alone
I've built my dreams around you

- - - Fairytale of New York
- - - The Pogues

Note: If I can find a kareoke bar that has this song on the playlist, I'll be a happy woman!


baby swings for cheap

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