Shave and a Bong Hit, Two Bits

I got my hair did today by a 26 year old Italian fellow named Pete, and I think I learned more about him in that 1.5 hours than I've learned about all the people who have ever cut, colored, styled or looked at my hair throughout the course of my entire life. For example, he always wanted to be a barber but was so good at doing women's hair he stuck to that instead. He met Carmen Electra in Atlantic City and said she was so tiny she "only came up to my nipple." His mom just got a Wii. He'd like to have kids before he's 30. He goes to New York Sports Club in downtown Montclair, he got chicken pox when he was nine and his favorite color is matte beige.

The thing that stood out to me the most, however, was how freely he discussed smoking weed with someone he did not know while he was on the clock at work. During the course of our conversation, he referred to smoking no fewer than five times. Case in point, he told me how when he met Carmen Electra he didn't say anything witty or clever because he'd just smoked three blunts and wasn't thinking clearly.

Then he asked what I was doing tonight. I told him probably nothing as I was tired and had to get up really early tomorrow morning (I didn't feel compelled to tell him "I'll probably write on my blog about your gratuitous mentions of recreational drug use while highlighting my hair"). He replied that he'd probably lay low too- finish work, go to the gym, smoke with his 'boys' then make it an early night.

Don't get me wrong, it's not that I have a problem with people smoking weed, I'm just surprised that he'd be so open about it with someone he didn't know at all who was one of his clients at work... maybe I look like a stoner and just don't know it...