"Don't cut his eyes"

I declared my friend Mike tonight to be the bravest person I know. Why? Because he let me cut his hair.

I have never cut anyone's hair, but last week I told him it looked like a lot of fun, so tonight we bought some scissors and let Bailey live out one of her dreams (one of those dreams that should probably be left untapped).

Mike's roommate Chris decided that the project would probably be better if we were all drinking some beer, so we each cracked open a Blue Moon for our adventure. Chris stayed close by at first, while I got out my jitters, and was then called back in every few minutes for check ups on the haircut. At the end of the cutting, we had Chris with a beer in one hand, the comb in the other, gathering up the pieces of hair that he deemed still too long, and I clipped away at them. At one point, when we were near Mike's ear, with the shears pointed toward the front of Mike's face, Chris gave some of the most helpful advice I've ever received: "Don't cut his eyes." At this Mike yelled, "Drink!" and made us pause while he gave himself a little medicine to make the process slightly less terrifying.

In the end I think we all declared the cut to be a "Well, it could be worse" cut. Mike expressed that he was happy to still have his ears and eyes. We also made plans for our future salon that we will open--tentative name is "Chop Shop"--in which both the hair cutters and hair cuttees will be provided with alcohol. Pending tagline: "We won't cut your eyes."