|
My girlfriend left me to my own devices for a week, so I had to keep myself occupied until she got back into town. Trying on her underwear and watching pornographic movies gets boring after around 48 hours, so I had to think of something more exciting to do. So I decided to cut my own hair. I didn't want any old style though, so I composed a list of possible choices and let my message board users choose for me... giving them the option to suggest their own styles. Many did, but the option for "Get it cut short and spiked with a new red dye job." won by a short lead in the short (24 hours) poll. So, it was decided. I was to drop my newfound hippy look and go towards a punkier look. That suited me just fine, with the rise of fine punk rock acts as Good Charlotte and Avril Lavigne are showing... there is life in punk yet. Sarcasm is so punk-rock. Another thing which is so punk-rock is the D.I.Y. ethic... so, stupidly, I figured that it would be pretty cool to attempt cutting my hair myself instead of using the "Get your hair cut at a trendy salon for only £5" voucher I had lying around. I just LOVE saving money. I have never cut my hair before, only shaved it down with shears. I always dye my own hair though, so that wasn't going to be as much of a problem. So, the night before, I fell asleep at 2:30 AM after a little preparation for the following day... that is where the trouble began, I woke in 3 hours... at 5:30 AM, and unable to get back to sleep. And so... my day begins... |
|
|
|
Yeah, I know what you are thinking. "He is incredibly beautiful anyway... why does he need a haircut?" Well, like I said, I was bored... it was something to do and it seemed a better option that doing the DIY tattoo which was my other option. It was at this point that I realised I should have bought the items I needed the day before... because stores aren't usually open at 5AM, and the local garage won't sell peroxide bleach. So, while I waited, I decided to SMS the message "'Operation Haircut' is underway. Wish me luck." to a number of random people on my phone to see what kind of response of I got. The response I got, was just like this: Chunkus (reply 1): Oh my god. Chunkus wets pants with glee. Good luck man Dogbitch (reply 2): no netniV (reply 3): Luck. Fireboy (reply 4): Good luck x Dogbitch AGAIN (reply 5): ok good luck Uberminx (reply 6): I wish you good aim! Camilla (reply 7): How's the hair-project going? Gentreau (reply 8): NO, NOT THAT BIT. TOO LATE. Other people didn't reply, but that small sample filled me with confidence to stride to the shops to buy Bleach and Peroxide. With that in hand, all I had to do was buy the dye and set off home to do the job. I'd be done by lunchtime! Unfortunately, you can only buy bright hair-dyes at "Alternative" shopping outlets which are owned and ran by hippies... so the sign on the door said "Open at 11". Must take them that long to get all the drugs out of their body I suppose. So I wandered around various shops, feeling more tired and lethargic by the minute due to the lack of sleep and the BLAZING sun. If the following pictures show a hint of tan, don't be surprised. Finally, the shop opened and I knew exactly what I wanted. One tub of "Pillarbox Red" hair dye, please. 3 hours later than I had hoped, I was back home and I was able to assemble together the tools and equipment I would need for the task which lay ahead. I had everything already apart from the items I had been shopping for on the morning... |
|
|
Not everything was there to be used, but it's handy to have everything to hand just in case I needed it at some point. Especially that voucher... or the vodka. After a quick swig from the vodka (probably not a good idea) I figured it was time to get to work... and so I made my first incision. It wasn't too painful, but as I wasn't looking into a mirror I cut a little more than I had originally planned. Dumb move, but I still had to continue in front of a mirror wielding my scissors for all it was worth. The strange thing is, you try to keep everything to one length but you manage to cut just a little bit too much off a section and so you have to snip down the rest of the hair to match... And it happens again, and again. It's a vicious circle on the top of your head. Before I knew it, I was almost bald. And bleeding. |
|
|
|
Because I wasn't comfortable sitting in a hairdresser's chair, the hair wasn't falling where it should. It was falling into my eyes, in my mouth... sticking all over my face. Even now, writing this, I have tiny hairs in my mouth welded under my teeth. Annoying me. So I took another quick shower, to try and clear some of the hair. That was the unknown bit out of the way... now I was to do what I had done a million times before. Bleach and It really never gets much nicer after doing it a million times though. Mixing the peroxide with the bleach powder creates the most god awful stench and when you apply it to your head you could swear that your scalp is trying to drip down your face. I have the feeling I will be bald before I'm 30. The instructions say to leave it on for 60-90 minutes to lighten dark hair. So, to be on the safe side I leave it for exactly 75 minutes and then wash it off. Hot water is not recommended when washing bleach off the head... it increases the pain and makes your head blister. Badly. Oh, on a side note... I never did a strand test. I've never done a strand test. I have no idea what a strand test is, but it doesn't sound like too much fun. I recommend everyone who is contemplating doing this kind of crap to their head to do a strand test. Maybe that stops the hurting. |
|
|
|
Yes. I realise that the blonde hair makes me look more like a homosexual pixie than a white rapper. I didn't stay looking like that for long; I really didn't want anyone to see me looking like that. (Someone remind me, this "internet" thing isn't seen by many people is it?) I also wanted to put something nice and creamy onto my head to stop it from throbbing and screaming "You burnt me, you bastard!". It was time for the dye. The nicest part of the process and yet the most involved. Before I can even think of putting dye onto my head, I have to break open my Vaseline™. It wasn't so I could use it for something "entertaining" while I looked like a gay pixie, oh no, it was to smear around my head, ears and neck. Dye stains EVERYTHING it touches. That includes the skin. Trust me, having a red ring of crap around your forehead after a fresh dye doesn't look too cool. With my two pairs of gloves on, I figured I was pretty safe so I started smearing the stuff all over my head. I made sure I didn't drop any of it into the sink I was working over, it stains porcelain even worse than skin. Mission successful. I was now covered in goo, I had a crappy old towel around my neck to catch the drips and I didn't get any in the washbasin. The instructions on the dye tell you to leave it for 15 minutes... so I left it for about an hour until I felt enough of the colouring had seeped into my brain to cause permanent brain damage. Time to wash it off. |
|
|
|
Washing the red stuff off the head is always interesting. It does stain everything it touches and there is really no way to stop it touching everything when you are washing it off. You are red from the neck down, your toenails start turning red. The floor and walls of the shower cubicle starts looking like a bad out-take from "Psycho" and you begin to get a sense of how Sissy Spacek feels in the opening scene of "Carrie". It's gore. Staining gore. And you have to keep watching it increase until, as the package puts it, "the water starts running clear". The water never runs clear. After 45 minutes in the shower, the water which is falling in front of my eyes is still a shade of pink. I decide I've had enough and step out, leaving the shower running to try and clear up some of the abattoir debris I have left behind. A quick rub with a clean white towel reveals that the water in the show must ALREADY have been pink. Not a single stain. Bah! So... that's that. I have a pain on my head still from the bleach, but it is all over. All that is left is the styling, to make sure that everything looks fine. |
|
|
|
|
|
If anyone asks why it's wonky... I can just blame it on those "new-fangled hairstyling shops"... or "What do you expect for a fiver?". Oh, it isn't a cheat cut from the £5 voucher either (I expect someone will ask). I took care of that. There was a lot of debris from it all though... it's a messy job. |
|
|
Note the bowl of hair. There was more hair in that bowl that I originally intended, but I still quite like my hair right now. Hopefully I can hang out with Avril's gang now. It seems a waste to waste so much good hair though. So I have bagged it up and placed it on Ebay. Hopefully someone will really want a bagful of my hair. Perhaps not. It'll be worth every penny though, I went through PAIN to produce that. |
|
|
|
Well, that's that. Look out for me in one of Miss Lavigne's videos soon. While you are waiting, why don't you leave me a comment? Maybe go leave a bid on Ebay for the hair? Or you can just go to the front page |