The Gilted Age

Two fun but completely random stories from the weekend. Got my haircut on Saturday. I know, this is shocking news that puts everyone’s life in a state of flux. I’m sorry but when I document my life most of what happens is technically boring stuff.

So, to continue with my new mood of constant change I’ve decided to change who cuts my hair and this is one of those very scary moments. I mean, it’s like getting in a plane. You have no idea who the pilot is, it could be that kid from grade school who believed in Santa Claus until the fifth grade for all you know. All that you know for certain is that your life is going to be in this dude’s hands for the next few hours. Likewise, when you switch the person cutting your hair you are suddenly at the mercy of a complete stranger. Maybe they’ll carve their initials in the back of your head, maybe they’ll decide that a blue tint is what is missing from your life, or maybe they’ll decide to give you a part even though you didn’t have one when you walked in (which has happened to me before). Those are pretty universal fears but I have two more specific ones. The first is that I have to take off my glasses when I get my haircut so for all I know she could be giving me a Mohawk and I wouldn’t know until it was over and I put my glasses back on. The second is that I get my haircut on Saturday morning, which comes after Friday night, and I’m not typically in the condition to be making sound decisions about how I will look for the next month. It’s more along the lines of “Please, could you cut my hair a little quieter?”

Anyway, so I did change my style a bit and really cut my hair short. Shortest it has been in a very long time, maybe ever. Got rid of the pseudo mullet that I’d pick up when I hadn’t cut my hair for a month, which will probably shock a lot of people in this part of the world. And I’m digging it, just makes me feel like I’m ready to go into battle or something. I just get this sleek, no nonsense, take no prisoners vibe when I look in the mirror. Friggin cool.

The second one is that I received the form from Jackson County for my property tax declaration. I can do this, it’s simple enough to state that yes, I still have my car. The thing is that there is a full section on declaring livestock. Remember, I live in the second largest city in Missouri and I still have to declare livestock. And oh, what a declaration it is. Let’s look at some of the categories, shall we?

· Horses/Mules/Asses: Well, given most people’s view of myself, I should declare one very unintelligent ass.
· Calves: Two (ugh, what a bad pun. The lowest form of comedy)
· Barrows/Gilts: I don’t know what the fuck these are. Seriously, when they list sows I understand it but I never remember seeing a Gilt at the zoo. Maybe it’s one of those weird Dr. Seuss animals. That would be cool.
· Slaughter Lambs: Ok, I’m a bit confused here. Are we talking lambs I’ve slaughtered, lambs I will slaughter, or lambs that I bought from Sgt. Slaughter? What if I planned on slaughtering the lamb, but had a change of heart and decided to become a vegetarian? Does that change my tax bracket?
· Replacement Ewes: Replacement for what? I have to state that I lost the other ones? And give a reason? And why do I have to let the ewe know it is a replacement? I mean, it’s got to be bad in the self respect category. Can’t I let it know that it is perfectly good in its own right?

(Nothing against farmers here. It’s just that I was sent this form and I live in a place where if I decided to get a cat the cat would have to pay rent. So, I’m pretty sure that I don’t have a cow lying around the apartment someplace.)

The five random CDs for the week (Best. Grouping. Ever.)

1) Jack Ingram “Acoustic Motel”
2) Jack Johnson “On and On”
3) Alejandro Escovedo “With These Hands”
4) Uncle Tupelo “Anodyne”
5) Cat Power “You are Free” (even though I do no recommend listening to Cat Power and operating heavy machinery to anyone)