Bad move

We both knew that one of the difficult things about moving back would be finding someone new to cut our hair. I never really liked where I got my hair cut before, so I faced the challenge of finding someplace new here. I tried to ask around a little bit but didn't hear any hearty recommendations, so I instead chose a place using the worst possible method--looking in the Yellow Pages. I ended up at a place called "ProEuro" (bad sign #1) that seemed to cater to students (bad sign #2) and could fit me in within an hour of calling (bad sign #3). So I got my hair cut by a very friendly Turkish guy...who was quite pleasant to talk with about Istanbul, but who butchered my hair (and almost took off as much skin as hair when trimming my goatee). If my hair were spiky instead of curly, it would look like a Basel teenage faux-hawk (I felt an odd compulsion afterward to go buy some tight white pants and high-top sneakers). It's never a good sign when your wife sees you and laughs so hard that she starts to cry...