Free from the dreads
Look at that miserable sod. Look at him. That was the look on my face every-time I went to the salon very manly barbershop to get my dreadlocks touched up. I had to wake up early in the morning to get there before the place got crowded . Spend a couple hours with a dude massaging my scalp, washing my head spraying shit all over it , pulling and twisting each dread to pull up the growth underneath and then putting me in this head oven above. It was not fun. But hey, it was worth it not having to comb or anything. Also being the guy with dreads sort of gives you personality. You appear interesting. If people find out that I spend a lot of my time working with excel-they're impressed. The same way you're impressed when someone's dog can bring them their slippers on command. Every trip to the mall, petrol station or bank comes with it a "Whagwan man" or "Rasta-ki boss" or "How's the album coming along?" . You suddenly feel familiar. You stand