My Haircut and Video Game Review

1st, the video game review. Today's video game is: 'Altered Beast'. This 1988 Sega Genesis Classic is...terrible. I've been at my parents' house for the holidays and have broken out the old Sega. NHL '94 is still incredible, RBI Baseball is serviceable, Revenge of Shinobi is pretty sweet...so wtf.org Altered Beast?

5 levels. Here's the breakdown:

Level 1: Stuff comes at you. You can punch or kick...or mix it up. Then you become a wolf and a stationary tall boss throws heads across the screen that then drop down in the easiest possible way for you to avoid them while you beat his a$$.

Level 2: Stuff comes at you. Mostly kicking. You turn into a dragon and to kill the giant eye that shoots little eyes, you get right next to it and push 'B' 8 times. I counted.

Level 3. Stuff comes at you. Mostly kicking. There are also gaps. You are forced to incorporate 'the jump button' or 'C'. You become a bear. You get next to a weird lizard on a bed that goes back and forth but in a limited range. Push 'B' 18 times.

Level 4: Stuff comes at you. Punching and kicking. You become a tiger and a flying gator mouth flies along the exact same pattern. 'B' button around 22 times depending on skill level.

Level 5: Stuff comes at you. Mostly kicking. You become a wolf again. You fight a rhino that is a boxer. Lots of 'B' button with the 'A' in the mix from distance.

Game ends. Ending sequence is of wolf staring at a blue bird flying in figure eight patter. If I could go back in time, besides resisting the urge to buy that Turbo Graphics 16, I'd put that copy of Altered Beast back on the shelf and replace it with attempting to talk to a girl. We learn by failure, not by playing video games in the dark.


The following is a recount of my resent haircut saga. Awkward.

My neighborhood in New York is really cool. I've got friends up here like Ryan Conner and Rory Scovel (Hoboken) and Erin Conroy (Brooklyn) and they think they live in cool neighborhoods. Erin wears a bullet proof vest. Ryan should wear one and Rory doesn't believe in vests. The point is, my hood is totally the coolest. It's like Adams Morgan in DC with more stores and places to eat...and more hipsters. My T-shirt is ironic!

Anyway, there are lots of white folks. Not that this means anything in general, but for this story it does. For all the white guys I see around my way, I never see any of them getting their hair cut. There are a bunch of barber shops/salons within a 10 minute walk of my apartment but when you walk by, you NEVER see a white guy getting his hair cut. I'm still pretty new to this area so I don't have things established. I knew where I could get my hair cut in DC. I don't in New York. I've been putting it off and I finally decided to take action.

I walked around, scouted locations, and paced around outside of places trying to pretend that I wasn't actually checking out these spots like an X boyfriend in a C- movie where he was charming until it was over. I settled on a clean looking Latin spot. I walk in. I was greeted by a stereotype. Seriously. It was like a John Leguizamo character.

'Ju nee' a 'aircuh'? OK, lemme see if de barbor is doing...'

He comes back shortly.

'OK unnnnn, de barbor is wif a guy right now...cutting hair not li' de odder ssing (laughs to himself that he made a double entendre) ...ann' unnn, dere is anover man 'oo is waiting for a chape up...so isss gon to be li' dirty minutes or son-sing...'

Cool. I'll come back later.

Undaunted, I roll close by to another barber shop that I've walked past many times. I get a little confused as to what block its on. Its really cold and windy. I finally find it. I open the door without really looking inside before I walked in...16 black men. That's who's inside this barber shop. There are 16 black dudes and they all stop and stare at me. I freeze. This is AWKWARD. What do I do? I'm white. Man am I white. I'm suddenly aware that I'm really white. Wow.

Lots of information is flooding to me in a short amount of time.

5 seats. Seat 1, man getting corn rows tightened. Seat 2, man getting afro picked. Seat 3, shape up. Seat 4, possible flat top box in progress. Seat 5, designs in the hair.

There are 2 amazingly old men playing checkers. 4 guys just chilling; just BS-ing and the 5 guys cutting hair. Those are your 16 and they are all staring at me. I decide that I'm going to roll with this. I start to take my jacket off and am trying to formulate the words to ask if it's cool if I hang out until it's time for my haircut. Before I can get the words out, the barber at the first chair, turns his clippers off, looks at me and says:

'Ain't got nuffin fo you up in here white boy.'

I say: 'Ok thanks!' and turn around a leave as fast as you can without running. The door is one of those kinds that opens normal but closes slow to allow for deliveries and such. I can hear them mocking me as I depart.

'Check out that corny muthaf*cka!'

'What's that weather like in Nebraska b*tch!'

(I was wearing my baseball sweatshirt) In the black guy doing a white guy voice: 'Yo homies, I play baseball.'

'Corny muthaf*cka lost!'

'Broke a$$ gps!'

New York city.