love plus one
I haven't had a haircut in almost two months, even though I am married to a hairdresser. I guess it's like the shoemaker's kids being barefoot.
As a result, my hair is huge. It stands up about four inches off my head, and sort of curls around like Wolverine . . . and not in a cool way.
Anne got a good look at my Marge Simpson-lite hair this morning.
"Holy crap," she said, "your hair is wearing you!"
"Yeah. I can't seem to make a goddamn appointment with my hairdresser, and despite the Logan look, I can't snikt it off."
I flexed my hands to show the lack of Adamantium claws.
"You lost me there," she said, "I don't speak nerd, remember?"
"So if I told you that my huge hair is a 5 point CHA disadvantage, that wouldn't mean anything to you?"
"And you wouldn't know that I'd mixed D&D rules with GURPS?"
We looked at each other for a moment. "That's right, baby, you're married to this!" I thought, mentally making a saving throw vs. Irritated Wife.
"May I please have a haircut?" I asked, politely.
"Yes you can," she said. "Let me get the hedge clippers."