My mom cuts hair. not really a barber but the female version
She seems to like it
whenever I think of a barber I think of old men sitting around in this tiny little shop gossiping like old women.
makes me think of guys and dolls
I was sitting in the barber’s chair with hair falling down to my left and my right when I thought, “What is the meaning of this?” Why waste this gift that god has given me when i could use it for so many greater things. I could use it to weave or whatnot, and make a nice sign for the barber shop.
just a bit off the top Jerry, I comment as I climb into the chair. The old men look up from their chess boards for a moment, but pay little attention. I’ve been coming here since I was two, and probably will keep on till I die.
Men go to barbers. They swear and talk politics and bars. Women go to salons. They talk about husbands and new trends and nails. Then they get together and compare haircuts.
A person who cuts hair. I’ve heard it said that it is a difficult profession. Having to endure the years of school and also having to deal with hundreds of peoples individual needs. But it is interesting to note that a barber usually establishes a loyal and longterm business relationship with their client.
cuts hair. makes it short. “Mom please don’t make me go to the barber!” Vicious scissors, malicious motives. Barber’s dogs always have wet hair.
Old fashioned nice men go to barbers. They are comforting and trustworthy. Ironic.
so this reminds me of white and red stripes on american boulevards, where italians get their beards nicely sliced off and neatened. old, bearded men with white hair do it for them, laughing loudly and joking.
Barber sounds like something found on the Spanish coast. When I was young I thought I might end up on the Spanish coast, as a pirate washed up, or a rich lord gazing at his villa. I ended up on the Jersey coast, combing, cutting, and listening. I’m happier than any pirate or lord I’ve ever met.
A barber is a person who makes a living cutting and grooming, they generally are male. In movies they are portrayed as a the nice gentlemen who provides fathers and men with life advice.
The barbershop. A place for men to be men. And women to not exist. A usual day of hair shearing and boy talk, nothing you’d be interested in. Or would you? A salon is not the same. We gossip. They talk. There just more substance.
barber shop they cut your har. i know a kid named bobby barber he likes to rap. barber shops are cool because they have the cool barber shop thingy outside of them thats blue and red im not sure whats it called but it looks pretty cool, also they sing songs together ib a b
make it strait, no make it flat, well what I mean is.. like this guy, you know how it has that way in the back. Kind of like, well nic. I mean I want it to look good
the holder of secrets. the pair of scissors that also goes by the name confidant. Assuming you are so lucky as to avoid a California vowel eating gumchewer. That image aside, the container of petty secrets.
Those blue and red twirly thingies, and the sound of sissors slicing the hair that falls slowly to the ground in little patches. Like Sweeny Todd, but not evil? I guess. I’m not good at this. Slice slice! :P
need a new haircut, damn. makes me look old this last one. what does he think of me? perhaps i should get a new colour as well. lets hope the barber is a good one
hot shavings and leather leggings sunshine windows too. Plain plaid with the musk of men sitting silently above the black and white tile with black and white thoughts. Hold steady the politics of the day, damn not the novice.
The woman ran into my shop. She was breathing hard. She looked at me intensly.
“I need help!” She screamed just as I noticed her bleeding. Everyone looked at me.
“Barber! You need to help her!” yelled the woman next to me.
Megan, I love her. Shes funny. She doesn’t have a filter between her mind and her mouth. Her comments are completely harmless, and if they are they hurt as much as a second grade insult. She’s beautiful. She’s confident. God luv her.
I was a kettle-barber once. I had kettles come into my shop and I would cut their hair and shave their beards. There were some pretty sexy kettles in that place, and they would come in every so often and just be like, “Dude, cut my hair” which I’d be happy to do. But occasionally they were like, “Dude, wash my arms” and I’d be like “NO WAY MAN! You have to do that on your own, I’m not touching those disgusting arms of yours”. It was a bad day, and I got fired for it. Now I’m just a lawnmower.
Father use to take me with him to the barbers on saturday mornings. Since I was a little girl, the barber would set the empty chair up with the horsey seat he sat the boys in to cut their hair and I woit there and watch myu dad get a cut and ashave, always worried the man with the big knife would huirt him.ut always happy for the lollip[op before we laeft.
I was a barber once. But then it went horribly, horribly wrong one day, when Felicia Day came into my shop. They wouldn’t let her use the bathroom at first, but then they did. See, I was a bit uncomfortable about her being in there, because I’m a barber; I cut men’s hair, usually. And the scissors were uncomfortable – they were the small kind. But then, of course, she insisted. I refused, and was fired on the spot. It was not the best day; now I’m just a lawnmower.
ive already done this one before, i said i dont like hairy people!!!! so why would anyone consider working as a barber? thats just gross
it sorta reminds me of mustaches and beards, which I would neverrrrrrrrrr want to cut shave or see fly out of someones head or face. whatever ha
The barber shop is a place where people come together. They sit in chairs and allow the conversation to flow. The barber in a community is a trusted man. He is trusted with secrets, lies, truths, and most importantly hair cuts. He will give you his honest opinion and trim you up for a fair price.
He brushed the loose hair for his last customer’s shoulders. “That’ll be $16 sir.” The man pressed some notes into Ken’s hand and waved as he closed the shop door behind him. For 43 years Ken had been a barber. What stories he could tell, he thought. Their secrets are safe with me. Ken smiled to himself as he began to tidy up the shop.
The barber shop windows were closed and darkened, little scratches bending across the surface of the glass pane. Behind those windows, the man stood, looking at the note that had been hastily scrawled on the counter amidst all the mess. *Couldn’t stay in business. Sorry, pops.*
That’s all it said? And did anyone even care that a foolish feud had ended a community?
the barber shop was fulll of old men with whiskers. long whiskers, short whiskers, grey, brown and white. the whiskers were all moving – grumbling, whispering, gossiping about this that and of coarse the other.
theres a barber in the shop and hes cutting peoples hair. why would he want to be a barber, hairs gross
i dont wanna be a barber all i think of is mustaches and beards! thats gross, I dont wanna mess with peoples hair specially if theyre all hairy and pubey ew grosss
I knew a barber, he was a man. A manly men, one of those men you fear as a child, you look up to them, with their beards and their moustaches, there burly chests and there booming voice that seemed to rattle your ribs every time the pronounciation of the letter B was made, he was a good man, it’s a shame i had to murder here. A true shame.
Through the years, fashions come and go- for many, this is a godsend, meaning a moment in the limelight, a chance to make untold wealth on the whim of the superficial- whilst stylists and hairdressers can tap into this market, the barber however has to charge the standard fee and constantly evolve his skill to remain contemporary. Who could blame Sweeney Todd?
I went to the barber in order to get my hair cut and he cut my ear off. I was terribly scared to go as a kid. This is disctracting me from watching the simpsons much like going to the barber distracted me from watching batman the animated series.
Of seville. A prankster. A jokester. A wonderful story of love lost and sought and, well, you know what it’s all about. It’s been done over and over. But why Barber? We always think it’s about hair and not a devil may care attitude toward life. Crazy.
My mom cuts hair. not really a barber but the female version
She seems to like it
whenever I think of a barber I think of old men sitting around in this tiny little shop gossiping like old women.
makes me think of guys and dolls
I was sitting in the barber’s chair with hair falling down to my left and my right when I thought, “What is the meaning of this?” Why waste this gift that god has given me when i could use it for so many greater things. I could use it to weave or whatnot, and make a nice sign for the barber shop.
just a bit off the top Jerry, I comment as I climb into the chair. The old men look up from their chess boards for a moment, but pay little attention. I’ve been coming here since I was two, and probably will keep on till I die.
Men go to barbers. They swear and talk politics and bars. Women go to salons. They talk about husbands and new trends and nails. Then they get together and compare haircuts.
A person who cuts hair. I’ve heard it said that it is a difficult profession. Having to endure the years of school and also having to deal with hundreds of peoples individual needs. But it is interesting to note that a barber usually establishes a loyal and longterm business relationship with their client.
cuts hair. makes it short. “Mom please don’t make me go to the barber!” Vicious scissors, malicious motives. Barber’s dogs always have wet hair.
Old fashioned nice men go to barbers. They are comforting and trustworthy. Ironic.
so this reminds me of white and red stripes on american boulevards, where italians get their beards nicely sliced off and neatened. old, bearded men with white hair do it for them, laughing loudly and joking.
Barber sounds like something found on the Spanish coast. When I was young I thought I might end up on the Spanish coast, as a pirate washed up, or a rich lord gazing at his villa. I ended up on the Jersey coast, combing, cutting, and listening. I’m happier than any pirate or lord I’ve ever met.
A barber is a person who makes a living cutting and grooming, they generally are male. In movies they are portrayed as a the nice gentlemen who provides fathers and men with life advice.
The barbershop. A place for men to be men. And women to not exist. A usual day of hair shearing and boy talk, nothing you’d be interested in. Or would you? A salon is not the same. We gossip. They talk. There just more substance.
barber shop they cut your har. i know a kid named bobby barber he likes to rap. barber shops are cool because they have the cool barber shop thingy outside of them thats blue and red im not sure whats it called but it looks pretty cool, also they sing songs together ib a b
make it strait, no make it flat, well what I mean is.. like this guy, you know how it has that way in the back. Kind of like, well nic. I mean I want it to look good
the holder of secrets. the pair of scissors that also goes by the name confidant. Assuming you are so lucky as to avoid a California vowel eating gumchewer. That image aside, the container of petty secrets.
Those blue and red twirly thingies, and the sound of sissors slicing the hair that falls slowly to the ground in little patches. Like Sweeny Todd, but not evil? I guess. I’m not good at this. Slice slice! :P
Cut my hair. All of it. Snip.Buzz. Razor. Shave. Get rid of it. Purge. Make me clean. Spin me around. Let me take a look.
i have necer been to a barber.
is the red and white stripped pole really nesscary?
i guess not.
o well.
I dont beileve ill ever go,
need a new haircut, damn. makes me look old this last one. what does he think of me? perhaps i should get a new colour as well. lets hope the barber is a good one
hot shavings and leather leggings sunshine windows too. Plain plaid with the musk of men sitting silently above the black and white tile with black and white thoughts. Hold steady the politics of the day, damn not the novice.
The woman ran into my shop. She was breathing hard. She looked at me intensly.
“I need help!” She screamed just as I noticed her bleeding. Everyone looked at me.
“Barber! You need to help her!” yelled the woman next to me.
Megan, I love her. Shes funny. She doesn’t have a filter between her mind and her mouth. Her comments are completely harmless, and if they are they hurt as much as a second grade insult. She’s beautiful. She’s confident. God luv her.
I was a kettle-barber once. I had kettles come into my shop and I would cut their hair and shave their beards. There were some pretty sexy kettles in that place, and they would come in every so often and just be like, “Dude, cut my hair” which I’d be happy to do. But occasionally they were like, “Dude, wash my arms” and I’d be like “NO WAY MAN! You have to do that on your own, I’m not touching those disgusting arms of yours”. It was a bad day, and I got fired for it. Now I’m just a lawnmower.
Father use to take me with him to the barbers on saturday mornings. Since I was a little girl, the barber would set the empty chair up with the horsey seat he sat the boys in to cut their hair and I woit there and watch myu dad get a cut and ashave, always worried the man with the big knife would huirt him.ut always happy for the lollip[op before we laeft.
I was a barber once. But then it went horribly, horribly wrong one day, when Felicia Day came into my shop. They wouldn’t let her use the bathroom at first, but then they did. See, I was a bit uncomfortable about her being in there, because I’m a barber; I cut men’s hair, usually. And the scissors were uncomfortable – they were the small kind. But then, of course, she insisted. I refused, and was fired on the spot. It was not the best day; now I’m just a lawnmower.
ive already done this one before, i said i dont like hairy people!!!! so why would anyone consider working as a barber? thats just gross
it sorta reminds me of mustaches and beards, which I would neverrrrrrrrrr want to cut shave or see fly out of someones head or face. whatever ha
The barber shop is a place where people come together. They sit in chairs and allow the conversation to flow. The barber in a community is a trusted man. He is trusted with secrets, lies, truths, and most importantly hair cuts. He will give you his honest opinion and trim you up for a fair price.
He brushed the loose hair for his last customer’s shoulders. “That’ll be $16 sir.” The man pressed some notes into Ken’s hand and waved as he closed the shop door behind him. For 43 years Ken had been a barber. What stories he could tell, he thought. Their secrets are safe with me. Ken smiled to himself as he began to tidy up the shop.
The barber shop windows were closed and darkened, little scratches bending across the surface of the glass pane. Behind those windows, the man stood, looking at the note that had been hastily scrawled on the counter amidst all the mess. *Couldn’t stay in business. Sorry, pops.*
That’s all it said? And did anyone even care that a foolish feud had ended a community?
the barber shop was fulll of old men with whiskers. long whiskers, short whiskers, grey, brown and white. the whiskers were all moving – grumbling, whispering, gossiping about this that and of coarse the other.
theres a barber in the shop and hes cutting peoples hair. why would he want to be a barber, hairs gross
i dont wanna be a barber all i think of is mustaches and beards! thats gross, I dont wanna mess with peoples hair specially if theyre all hairy and pubey ew grosss
I’m going to one right now. I was in two minds before getting this word but now it seems like a sign. Ah the little things!
I knew a barber, he was a man. A manly men, one of those men you fear as a child, you look up to them, with their beards and their moustaches, there burly chests and there booming voice that seemed to rattle your ribs every time the pronounciation of the letter B was made, he was a good man, it’s a shame i had to murder here. A true shame.
Through the years, fashions come and go- for many, this is a godsend, meaning a moment in the limelight, a chance to make untold wealth on the whim of the superficial- whilst stylists and hairdressers can tap into this market, the barber however has to charge the standard fee and constantly evolve his skill to remain contemporary. Who could blame Sweeney Todd?
I went to the barber in order to get my hair cut and he cut my ear off. I was terribly scared to go as a kid. This is disctracting me from watching the simpsons much like going to the barber distracted me from watching batman the animated series.
Of seville. A prankster. A jokester. A wonderful story of love lost and sought and, well, you know what it’s all about. It’s been done over and over. But why Barber? We always think it’s about hair and not a devil may care attitude toward life. Crazy.
Blond locks fall around my feet. I am unchained from my past. Without hair, I proceed to the next stage towards enlightenment.
men only hairdressers. Saloons, cigars, scotch, pocket watches, gambling, men only. i wouldn’t want to be involved anyways.
barber. men only hairdressers. Saloons, cigars, scotch, pocket watches, gambling, men only. i wouldn’t want to be involved anyways.
“Ow, that hurt.”
“Did it? I’m sorry, these scissors must be getting dull. Hold on.” Tom sat in the chair, rubbing his scalp.
I already did this word, bitch. wtf.
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follow meh on tumblah: darrencris.tumblr.com C:::
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EL OH EL
Beautiful scissor work
Angled just
Right for
Bangs to be
Edged
Radiantly