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AdventVoice
I am an artists who always seeks to give you a piece of material that makes your heart beat like a speaker!

Age 35, Other

Anthologist

Of Hard Knocks

All Over

Joined on 5/15/17

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She cuts like a professional Commentary.

Posted by AdventVoice - July 21st, 2018


https://www.newgrounds.com/art/view/adventvoice/she-cut-s-like-a-professional

The barbershop is a very important place for a man like me.

One who cares about making an impression upon the people he interacts with that will last longer than the average television special. I have come to believe that a person has five minutes to earn the attention of a room before they have become so bored with you they've already decided by the end of the week, how many times they can avoid cooking a meal by eatting out.

It takes a good barber an hour an a half to have a person ready to meet the world and their public for his daily life of "Five minute," snap shots of impressions. On twitter, with my monolouges and eclectic converstaion, which has not motivated any "real," constructive value, I am able to gainfully pull in 1000+ "impressions," in a day. " I would like to give credit to the art mainly; because no one on twitter knows of the man and how much he spends on his hair-cut."

All they know is his art and his words. Keeping this in mind, I am sure it is nice for many to know his haircut is as smooth as the words that are used to grab your attention for five minutes.

Very little can take me away from the need of the places that help men like me maintaine the character of "Man," we've created. I did change a particular tradition to the story of one of the mainstays to manhood. "I allowed a woman from a hair salon to cut my hair, spent the best 20.00 I ever thought I'd spend in  a longtime."

 Keeping with most traditions the "Master Hair stylist," and I began to build the "relationship," she asked me how I wanted my cut, "Even fade, sharp line." With a new barber, always start off easy.

 I told her, I want to feel clean again. She laughs and allows me to sit.

The allure of the hair-salon and barbership is the idea that anyone can go there and recieve advice and direction, just open up and talk about what is important to you, while they lose half the "character," which set upon the world a bad "impression."

 I asked my new barber about Bitcoin. She has as much hope in it as I.

After some thought, I imagined these same conversations were had during the Gold Rush years when the West was being developed and everyone asked their barber or hair stylists if they thought all of the digging in the quarries was worth leaving the security of the Common Wealth for what oneside of the population calld a "Fools Venture," or "Fool's Gold."

 I told her breifly how I acquired the indention found at the top of my scalp and appologized for the dry scalp. She did not care about the dry scalp, she had ointment for that, she wanted to know about the scar. I told her about the, Man with a wild jealous streak and known for going to pop his trunk not to retrieve a rifle but a hammer. The man carried "Premeditated thoughts," of murder in his left pocket and had the ability to weasel out of any court case, with the asinine defense delivered to the judge in the form of, "Your Honor, I only had a hammer. A hammer has never been known to kill anyone."

 I was not bleeding enough for the judge to file anything more than a misdemnor assualt charge; I was thankful to have gotten a few good licks in to save my pride.

"Why were you fighting," my hair stylist asks.

"Over a woamn," I tell her, "One I has not intentions with besides hello and good by mind you, but like I said, the man with a hammer felt he had cause becauise I danced to long with, "His woamn."

 The hair stylist asked if I learned my lesson and stay away from clubs or pubs and loose women.

I had to tell her, None of what happened above, was the reason for the attack of my skull. If men could keep their personal feelings away from the dance floor in a place where no woman carries a sign on her back suggesting she is untouchable or "owned," by anyone carrying a hammer, in the trunk of his car. Then again I've not been back to such a place since then and don't miss the drama.

After busting a gut she tells me how she has a thing for gambling and it is a problem for her. She can't stand to lose and does not know when to stop. I wanted to help her so I told her to stick with cards and stop playing bingo. Cards are all about reading the bluff and only playing sure hands and avodiing the hammer when you win.


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