Haircuttery

All my life, someone cut my hair for me.  First my mother, who was a big fan of the "Prince Valiant."  For those of you fortunate enough never to have had one of these inflicted on you, here's the 'style.'

Hot!

Thanks Mom!


Once I moved on to having professional haircuts, I went to a friend of my mothers who would periodically have fun at my head's expense.  Like when she thought I'd look good with Agassi's haircut. His pre-bald haircut.  Yeah, this one:

To be fair, this may be a wig

To be completely honest, I was 100% behind the idea.  I mean, who wouldn't be?  And besides, all that was separating me from Andre was the hairstyle.  Oh, and the fitness, skill, and good looks.  But mainly the hair.


As I reached high school, I went with the ponytailed look, reducing my haircuts to annual trims, still professionally administered, just to keep from looking too much like Cousin It.  Fine, I looked exactly like Cousin It, though less skillful, fit, and good looking.


Eventually I got a job and cut my hippy hair off and, you know, stopped looking like as much of an idiot, despite what every picture of me on this blog may indicate.  But now I am faced with a new hair related problem.  That's right, Kiki, and it's a doozy:

What?

Yeah, from birth her hair just stuck straight out.  All the time.  No matter what we did.  Hats, hair clips, bows, water, gel, glue.  Nothing could contain the madness.  Finally, after six months, her hair finally succumbed to the siren song of gravity.   But then we were faced with a new challenge.  Now that her hair was no longer vertical it was just in her eyes.  So, much like my mother before us, we were forced to cut our child's hair.  But, being progressive, forward thinking, and hip parents, we wanted to give her something different.  Something unique.  Something sleek and modern:

Alright, to be fair, it's quite a bit like the Prince Valiant.  Actually, it's a lot more like, well...