Haircut v2 plus Scarf Man

It's weird what can trigger a memory. Usually drunken memories are unreliable, so I've had to refer to the notes I'd made mid-intoxication.

Friday came and went, but not before a full day of stuff. I spent too much on clothes (but then again I don't buy alot so anything seems a bit too much) and then I got my hair cut....but this time I've got an overwhelming joint opinion that it's an actual haircut....although I still maintain that from a technical standpoint, if hair has been cut away from the head then that is by definition a haircut. But lets not get into that one. Let's just say it is most definately different. I didn't really like it to begin with. I guess going into it with the knowledge that I'd been morally forced into it to begin with didn't help. I think I upset the hairdresser too, but that's simply going off what the Monk tells me. So far the feedback is mostly good. Even stopped a few people mid-sentence. It's kinda growing on me too.

We went out later that day and got a little....squiffy. I do like that word. It's not used often enough in my opinion. That and tomfoolery. Anyway, I'm sitting there, minding my own business when a see a flash to my left. I realise that some strange woman has just taken my photo and wandered off. Luckily her boyfriend stopped back to explain what the hell had just happened. Turns out, this girl takes the photographs of random strangers and sticks them to her wall.....yeah I know. I was hoping for a more in depth explanation myself. Unfortunately I was a bit too far gone at this point to probe further. I was at this time merely content with the fact that I'll be there, on the wall, for strangers to gawk at me and make obnoxious comments that may or may not be true. I mean, why the hell would you put me on there? I'm hardly anything to write home about, other than to warn your relatives that there's one god awful looking guy hanging round out there somewhere.

After that we went to Baja, much against my will. I used to get guilt tripped into going every goddamn week back when I was at school. My friends loved it. I however did not. I hated it in fact. Turns out, I still do. I stood there, much as I had in my childhood, fuming, using all my energy to stop myself from just walking out the door....that staring at people until the start a fight. You have no idea how much I wanted someone to attack me. I know by this point you think this is a pretty irrational attitude to have. That the company you're in should be enough. Don't get me wrong, I love the people I was with to bits, but that can only get you so far. The musics shit, the clientel are a bunch or twats, and most drinks are around a fiver (even a double vodka and lemonade). Needless to say I stopped drinking soon after rediscovering this last fact.

There was one saving grace in this club. Scarf Man. That's right, he even gets a capital "M". We watched this guy from the balcony for what seemed like an hour. His main gimmick was (surprise surprise), his scarf. He pranced around in it, he tried to wrap his prey in it, he generally lived through that thing. At times he did get a bit overzealous, yes, but it worked for him. Sure he almost choked a woman and everytime he got knocked back you saw him die a little bit inside. But he kept going. I wish I had that sort of "Maybe next time" attitude. I whooped and cheered at his every attempt. Shouted and screamed at every failed conquenst. It wasn't long before others began to join in, even to the point where some guy next to us began to wonder what the hell was going on. Apparently, so I'm told, he looked at us. Looked at the dance floor. Looked at us again and began cheering along. He then told his girlfriend and (I hope) it spread from there. I would have loved for it to have spread throughout the upstairs balcony.

God bless you Scarf Man, you may have lost your scarf at the end of the night, but in our hearts you'll always have a warm neck.

.....okay, I guess you had to be there.