Bad Advice

My Fellow Comedists,

This weekend let's share stories of bad advice. People mean well, think they are helping, but good intentions do not always translate into effective results.

There was the time in college I took my grandfather's suggestion on a barber. My grandfather was bald. But he swore by Tony the barber, so I went. I walked in and the place was empty. This should have been my first clue. Only Tony and Gino. Gino didn't cut hair, his job was to sit in an empty chair and swear at the pictures in Life magazine in Italian. I tell Tony I want it long, take off my glasses, and he starts cutting. A couple minutes in, he says to Gino, "You know who had curly hair like this, remember that guy Joe who would come in years ago?" Great, Tony hasn't seen curly hair in years. Just get me out of here. So, he cuts and cuts and finally says, "What do you think?" I hate getting my hair cut and am virtually blind without my glasses, glasses that have to be removed before I haircut. Assuming he is a professional, I'm sure the job is fine and get out of the chair, put my glasses back on, pay, and leave. I drive back home and my mom looks at me, her eyes get wide and she starts to laugh. Not a little chuckle, but a full out can't control it, belly laugh. Baffled I run to the bathroom mirror and look. I told Tony to leave it long, something he apparently only remembered after cutting the top and back of my hair which were short. The sides, however,... when you have very tight curls, length turns into volume meaning that Tony sent me out of his barbershop with what looked like a pair of kaiser rolls over my ears. It has become known in family lore as the "Princess Lea" haircut. I went back to campus and it took my girlfriend the better part of an hour to fix it. And from then on I never took advice on finding a barber from a bald man.

Worst advice you ever got?

Live, love, and laugh,

Irreverend Steve