i have settled on a new hair person. needless to say i didn't have a great amount of luck cold-calling barbers around town. the issues were numerous, the frustrations even more-so. it sucks to learn something you already know; replacing a master-craftsmen isn't easy.

for once i've been rewarded for blathering on incessantly about something that only i cared about. after reading, or at least getting tired of reading, about me go on and on and on about the departed hair-savant, larry evilsizor, this girl emailed me, asking for a shot at the title. surprised and curious i responded, asking what i could expect from her service.

she promptly replied saying it was the typical salon scenario; appointment-based, cut, wash and style. i like knowing i can get in the chair on the quick, the cut was obvious, the wash i was a little nervous about for reasons i'll explain, and the style, well styling my hair is like raking cement so i'd be kind and spare her that frustration.

regarding the wash i emailed her with a possible issue; it was an absolute certainty that i would moan, groan and make other such utterances while getting my hair washed and would this cause a problem. she simply asked if they were good or bad noises to which i simply answered 'yes'.

last week while reclined in the heaven chair getting washed, i commented how this was the most intimate relationship i had with anyone outside of my family. i added, this would be the case until i'm no longer able to duck the glove-check my doctor threatened me with at my last visit three years ago. i've been shockingly healthy since that conversation. i advised the hair girl that she will probably hold this unique troy-distinction for some time in that i'm waiting for technology to get to the point where they can discern the state of my rectum while sitting on the other side of the room. although, my children would claim to have already mastered that unlikely feat.

uttered by the fourth person to cut my hair since the departure of the great one.

for most who look at this picture, what stands between them and hair like this is a catastrophic and/or life-changing event. for me the only thing between me and this is my barber.

larry evilsizor's barbershop : march, 1991 - september, 2004

he will be greatly missed.

puberty punched me in the face so hard i was nearly unrecognizable on the other side. the greatest victim to this unprovoked mauling was my hair, which is certainly no secret to anyone who has met me since the age of thirteen. before this adolescent milestone, i had silky strands just like the other kids, but as a teenager i was the sole member of a yet-to-be-established support-group for people w...

man is my mom going to hate this photo. but not nearly as much as i'm going to hate the one my family goes on at an official photo studio, ala olan mills, in the days to come. "you tilt your head this way...now you move a little to the left...you rest your elbow on your knee like you're relaxing...you tilt your head back the other way...now everyone smile...eveyone have fun...can someone make the ...

I go to my barber every 10 to 14 days. When I ask other people how often they go, most report between four and six weeks. Learning this I asked my barber, Larry Evilsizor, if he saw anyone more than me. He claimed he had a guy that was close but thinks I squeak him out since I don't always make it a full two weeks.

Our local hipster paper, The Riverfront Times, recently named Larry as The Best Place to Get a Regular Haircut in Saint Louis. In that I've seen Larry every two weeks for nine years now, this was not news to me. But I am glad to see him finally receive the unexaggerated adulation he absolutely deserves.

In hearing this it occurred to me that if Larry is the best barber in Saint Louis and I am his best customer, should the Riverfront Times not run an article on the Best Customer of the Best Place to Get a Regular Haircut.

As an added note, the last time I saw Larry he told me that he would have to start running the clippers along my ears before long. I asked what that even meant and he explained that as men get older darkish, thickish and noticible hairs begin sprouting on the ear. Disturbed, I consulted my close friend bookguy on the matter. His response, "That's about the scariest shit he could ever say to me."