There Goes Your Tip

So I'm at the barber shop, perched awkwardly in a red leatherette chair, with little bits of hair crawling down the back of my neck.  As the barber finishes up the sides, she asks me to skootch down a little so she can reach the top of my head.

"Oh, this will go much faster," she says.  "It's a lot thinner up here."

 



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