I think Calvin Coolidge had a flattop

I didn't actually celebrate Banana Bread day, although a few weeks later I almost started a fire while trying to warm up some frozen banana bread Eggos. After purchasing said waffles, I realized that my apartment has neither a toaster nor a baking sheet, so I stuck a few of the waffles on a broiler lid and popped it in the oven. A few minutes later, the smoke detector started shrieking. I turned off the oven, fanned the detector until it calmed down, then enjoyed my perfectly crisp Eggos. This happened on the day before Daylight Savings started, which is when you're supposed to check/change your smoke detector batteries, right? Well, mine works. Nothing like doing things the hard way.

I bring this up because it means we've made it! After this post on President's Day, I'll finally be finished blogging about my many celebrations during my extended "holiday season," and I can resume blogging about whatever I want, in a non-pigeonholed way. Several holidays have come and go since President's Day (Leap Year Day, the Oscars, Pi Day, St. Patrick's Day, Easter, March Madness, etc.), and they may get mentioned, but it won't be in a systematic way like I've been doing the past few weeks. So on to President's Day...

As I've mentioned, one of the keys to a good holiday is not working. I could've worked if I had wanted to--for some reason the Lehman Library at Columbia was open that day, even though a former U.S. President was once the Prez at CU, and Columbia has even recently hosted the president of a hostile nation. But I had better stuff to do, like get a haircut.

(This was my first haircut since late November, much longer than my usual haircut gap, but I had no choice. For that previous cut, I visited Richard Gore's Barbershop, a few blocks away from my apartment. When I first walked by it, I thought the sign said Richard Gere's Barbershop, and that's why I decided to go there.

If you try to imagine what Richard Gere's Barbershop might be like...I'm pretty sure Richard Gore's is the exact opposite. It was a very surreal experience. If you've ever seen the movie Barbershop, it was a lot like that, except the floors and the language were much dirtier, and there was no one in that shop that looked anything like Eve.

My barber, Marlon, asked me what I wanted, and when I told him "a 2 on the sides and scissors on the top," he basically told me he was philosophically opposed to using scissors, and that he could do anything with clippers that other barbers can do with scissors (this may be true, but he didn't demonstrate it on me).

That was pretty much all he said to me until he was about finished, because he was always either on the phone while buzzing me (from what I overheard, it seems Marlon had recently been released from prison, and was involved in some shady business dealings), or running out the door to talk to friends he saw passing by (I don't think I want to know what they talked about), and my haircut ended up taking about 45 minutes. Amazingly, my wallet was still in my jacket pocket when I went to pay him after (I've actually been paranoid about having my wallet stolen since I started using one in junior high, but it's never happened).

Because he used clippers instead of scissors, my hair was way too short in the front, a sort of modified Caesar. It actually looked decent for the first day or two, but that quickly changed. It took forever for it to grow out, and it was finally semi-ready to be cut again on President's Day. I'm not sure if I topped my pal Joey for longest blog parenthetical statement, but mine did include three interior parentheticals. Anyway...)

This time I went to Supercuts. I walked in and asked for the Millard Fillmore, and rather than try to explain my lame President's Day joke, I actually didn't make it. I got my hair cut the way I usually do, and was reasonably satisfied.

That night, I went on my first date since arriving in New York (no, I'm not embarrassed about it, I just had a lot to say before I got to this part). The "lucky" girl was Rosemary, a really nice girl in my ward, the one who wasn't repulsed by the haggis (that wasn't a test or anything, although it certainly didn't hurt). Monday is not a typical date day, but it was a day we were both available. We got crepes at a place near where I work (but not that day! Holidays rule!), then went to FHE, where I taught my group some improv exercises and the game "What Are You Doing?," an old LOL crowd-pleaser. My favorite moments were Sarah's "nosing octopi" and Rosemary's "hugging Joeys" (you had to be there, especially if you've never seen the game played). After FHE, she went home with her sister, and I went back to my place--kind of strange, but I'm sure no more awkward an ending than there would've been had I walked her home. Again, Monday dates are weird. But I had fun.

And isn't that what President's Day is all about? (Well, that, and honoring the great men who have led our country. And Warren Harding.)