And I might say, "oh, shut up."
Or, you might ask me "Fancy Pants, how is it you are able to maintain your fanciness when you are broke? Broke-ity broke broke!"
And I might say, "Well, dear reader, I am quite creative. Par example, I saved $80 on a haircut this weekend."
Impressive, no? I'm verah clevah.
I went to my usual New York walk-in salon at noon on Sunday and was told that they could take me at 3:00 pm. It's not a walk-in salon, I think, when you have to make an appointment to, er, walk-in. So I went to the barber shop by my apartment. Yes, I said BARBER SHOP. I stepped in, expecting to see Andy Griffith and his wacky gang of Mayberry friends, but the shop was empty. I called out and a gentleman appeared from the back. "Can you trim my hair?" I asked. He nodded. "You pick chair," he said. So I sat.
"What you like?" he asked. "Um, trim it, " I replied. My hair is short anyway - pixie-ish - like a boy's, so I figured he could do it.
"Where you live?" he asked.
"Right next door."
"Oh! You neighbor! Good. I am from Russia. You look Russian."
"No. Part of my family is Czech, though," I offered.
"Oh! Czech! Close enough," he replied.
He was a sweetie. By the end of my trim, he had taught me an Uzbekistani history lesson, assured me I would find love and given me a fairly decent haircut. For 15 bucks.
Who says rich and fancy has to be expensive?