Reviews For Sport Clips Haircuts of Paris Rd

So there is was. It was a usual Sunday morning and already hot as balls out, the kind that sticks to your thigh. It is at this time I realized my hair was getting kind of long and was not helping fight the heat. A little time passed as I was mustering up the strength to go outside and endure the weather that i assume was like walking amongst the surface of the sun. While I was completing my yard work I had also started to slow smoke chicken legs on the grill for lunch. Once the yard work was complete it was time to wash off. The smell left after the yard work can only be described as a combination of a rat after it just started menopause, and a old man whose toe nails have not been clipped in years and now have their own eco-system. After enjoying a morning shower beer and doughnut (pre chicken doughnuts are the best), I continued with my weekend house work. This time in the air conditioning. I keep the house a balmy 65° so this was a much welcomed reprieve after spending the morning squarely inside Apollo’s anus. At this point the chicken is mostly complete with only 45 minutes left. I checked my local Sport Clips for wait time, 74 minutes!! Whooohooo, I can eat, then go to my appointment. I used the 45 minutes and the time for eating to rewatch probably the greatest moment in TV history. The place, Kings Landing. The time, The Royal Wedding. There THEY were, at the Royal feast. King Joffrey Baratheon, acting like a toddler that had just been used as a hockey puck, drinking and prancing around the table. He was treating his uncle the way you would treat that feeling, that feeling after just relieving your stool into that porcelain palace, but afterwards you still feel a bit is hanging on. You know the feeling 😉 Anyways, he was treating his uncle poorly to say the least, like an annoyance that would not go away. During this interaction with his uncle, all of a sudden he starts coughing. At first nobody seemed concerned as he took another drink of his wine to clear his throat. As he continued to be-”little” (haha) his uncle Tyrion his cough started to worsen. His wife Margaery calling for help saying the King is choking (actually poisoned). The King dropped to his knees, gasping for air, projectile vomiting into the ground. The King collapsed, no longer gasping for air. THE KING IS DEAD!! The King lie there, face up, and pale with blood protruding from his nostrils. Everyone is shocked, but secretly rejoicing and trying to hold back their glee. The world is good again and justice found its peace. (Under my breath* Little **** deserved it) The chicken turned out great, I ripped through the crispy flesh to get to the meaty core of goodness that can only be achieved through hours of low heat. Another successful meal, life is good. I had almost forgot that earlier I had crawled out of the bowels of Tartarus itself. Time for my Haircut appointment! I hopped on the motorcycle and decided to take the long way there. I made sure to intermittently speed up to speeds that would make Cole Trickle wet himself, all the way down to speeds that would make for a close race with your grandma. I needed to make sure my hair was properly whisked from the wind before the appointment. I arrived 7 minutes and 36 seconds early for my appointment. The stylist, Lauren, promptly had me seated and ready to start my trim. She looked at me with this look of dread on her face. Before she could cut my hair she had to pick bugs out from the motorcycle ride. I assume it looked like one monkey picking lice from another, though I did not see her eat any of the bugs. (that I know of) She had cut my hair previously, she looked nervous after seeing the bird nest that was my hair and beard, but she swiftly turned that look of horror into a smirk of gettin****done. A snip here, and a buzz there. A quick jab under my jaw to get those perfect beard lines cut. The cut was going good, to good. I’m looking to good at this point. Surely this would prove to make the trip home difficult due to all the Ladies that would certainly throw themselves at me. As she finished up she asked what I think. Though I was secretly very happy with the cut, I had to keep her humble by saying she messed up my beard, and that it would be okay because “I would just fix it at home”. She brought another stylist over to check out the work on my beard. Emily was that stylist. Emily vigorously looked and commented that the lines were strait, the cut was good, everything was symmetrical. Emily asked what specifically I was unhappy with and they would work to fix it. Instead of an answer I retuned with a question of my own. I asked what specifically a meerkat and 18th century pocket watch have in common. I told them the answer to that would answer her question. As they both looked confused I proceeded to exit my chair and walk to the register. I paid my tab and left from whence I came returning to smash some more of that delicious chicken. Lauren Is a great stylist, and Emily was okay too I guess 🤔 They we’re both friendly and I enjoyed the personable interaction with these knowledgeable and experienced ladies. I will be returning, unless I don’t 🤷‍♂️

I had a great haircut! Thank you to my hair stylist Brianna.

Awesome won't be going anywhere else Big thx Hailey