When I was a teenager I was required to get regular wig chops from my father. It was so hard for me to sit there like I was made in the shade but I tried. He was my dad but not a daddy-o or a greaser. And I was just one of his many ankle biters. Every time he mentioned giving me a wig chop I beat feet to burn rubber. I knew I was cruising for a bruising but I wanted a long coif that would razz my berries. Whenever I mentioned want it my parents told me to cut the gas. Long hair was the ginchiest and I thought the gals with classy chassis and not chastises would want to play back seat bingo with me if I had some. Word from the bird was guys with long hair were.

https://www.msn.com/en-us/lifestyle/smart-living/100-slang-terms-from-the-20th-century-no-one-uses-anymore/ss-BBGrBeS?ocid=spartandhp#image=18



Edited 2 time(s). Last edit at 08/30/2018 02:22PM by Elder Berry.

That's groovy, man.

Yeah man. Far out!

HH =)

I try to not be a Wet rag, man.

Having moved from SLC to Utah in 1966, and somewhat adopted the longer-hair California style (it was still pretty damn short), when we went back to Utah to visit family in 1968, they all called my brother and I "hippies." And chastised my parents for letting us have our hair so out of control.

One of my first WTF? moments!

Oh, and dude, like the surfer talk bugged them too. They didn't think it was anywhere as gnarly or rad as me and my bros did.

ificouldhietokolob Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> Oh, and dude, like the surfer talk bugged them
> too. They didn't think it was anywhere as gnarly
> or rad as me and my bros did.

Totes awesome dude!

My haircut from TBM dad story....

When I was in 6th grade, I was 11 years old. This would have been very early 70's and long hair was the bee's knee's. Mine was rather curly and frizzy, but it was well over my ears and down to my shoulders, and that was the important thing.

So one Saturday, my dad say's he's going to take me to his barber. I said, no, I'll just have Mom cut it like she always does. He said no and he was Dad, so we went to his Barber....another guy from the ward.

I get in the chair and Brother Barber asks me what I'd like. I said take off about a half and inch. Brother Barber looks at my dad, dad gives him the nod, so I figure I'm good to go.

What I didn't know was that dad and Brother Barber had conspired against me. I was given a hair cut that actually left about half an inch of hair as opposed to removed half and inch. I had white side walls above my ears, neck shaved up nice and tight. All the curl and frizz was removed, leaving only the straight, base of the hair strands.

I was livid, humiliated, and deceived! Dad and Brother Barber thought they were pretty clever. I was extremely affected by this, knowing I would be the laughing stock at school on Monday. I was also so pissed at my dad and his love for the church over me, his willingness to ignore what importance an 11 year old boy's hair could be in those days, and his willingness to basically lie to me about the haircut, that I decided to kill myself. Mormonism caused me to think about that as a child...that and running away. I wished for death over a life of forced mormonism.

So I went to my moms medicine cabinet and found a bottle of sleeping pills. There were only 4 left, so I took them all. It was only enough to make me sleep for 2 days. I said I was sick. When that wore off, I went back to school and was the laughing stock for a while. It blew over, my hair grew back, and I'm glad there wasn't a full bottle of pills in that cabinet.

Wow! And I thought my haircuts were bad. My parents spent money on themselves and raised 10+ kids on the super cheap. We were a charity case family with a well paid father it is just no one knew that. So haircuts were always a family affair. Once my sister stepped in for my father and cut a tiny piece of my ear off.

Outta state, man!

...OK, let's do it!!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Gc4QTqslN4

"Kooky, Kooky, lend me your comb!"

Far out!

Whoops HH already used it.


Whatever!

Wow. That took me back! It was the duck-tail coif that the greasers sported along with their T-shirt sleeves rolled up with a pack of cigs. My cool brother, (with hay-fever, no such thing as allergies in those days), had his nasal spray in the other rolled up sleeve. He maintained the better coif - the crew cut - well into his years as a long time senior. :-)



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 08/31/2018 12:49AM by SusieQ#1.