Rather than tell you how the snippety snip went, I thought I'd show you. Tom Riddle said that to Harry once*, and it worked wonders for good old Voldy.
*Chamber of secrets, pensieve. I know your out of practice, but its summertime. Get some HP in. We all know its the only book you've ever liked reading
Anyways, here's some background info for the day to help make things more cleary than Beverly.
12:00 pm : Myself and friend/co-manager Giffun-dawg are driving around Smithtown, collecting money so that we can go register our summer softball team (i'm not sure why they are even bothering to play the season considering our ridiculously talented and roided out roster, but I digress). After mentioning to her that I am getting my haircut today, she proclaims that it is Christmas and that she absolutely, postively, otherexcitingadjectivethatendsin-ely, is coming to watch me get my haircut.
I must admit that I was quite nervous. I've never had a fan watch my haircut live. Usually, they just DVR it. What if I folded under pressure? Would my haircut career be forever tarnished? Rob Greene?
Anyways, she decides that the event must be filmed. Here's what went down:
Props to: Giffun-dawg, the radio station at the haircut place, Barbara the hair-cutter