I got a hair cut today. My hair is now short. My hairdresser was a from the land of Iraq. This was some of our conversation:

Him: What you want?
Me: Shorter, neater.
Him: What number?
Me: No number, just the scissors. Sometimes I get a four on the sides. I'm not very good with hair. I don't know what looks good.
Him: I know, you like zero.
Me: No. I don't like zero.
Him: You look good with zero.
Me: I'll have no hair. I'm not that brave. I'm losing my hair so I'll have a zero soon enough.
Him: You come to me in five years, you say "I want zero", I say "You don't need zero. Your hair is all gone." You married?
Me: No.
Him: Girlfriend?
Me: No.
Him: Headache?
Me: Sometimes.
Him: You get too many headaches from girlfriends?
Me: That's why I don't have one. *I think that's probably a lie.* Are you married?
Him: No.
Me: Do you have a girlfriend?
Him: Yes. But we need to break. She give me too many headaches. I don't like her. Two months I have not seen her, only talk on phone.
Me: That sounds like you should break up.
Him: Yes. You meet girls at work?
Me: Some, but they're mostly old.
Him: How old?
Me: 40.
Him: You like forty-year-olds?
Me: No, the people I work with are forty.
Him: The girls like forty-year-olds?
Me: Maybe. They're too old of me, they're forty.
Him: You like younger. 20 is good. Or 25 you like?
Me: 25 is a good age.
Him: Yes. 25 good age to sex.
Me: Laughs

Usually I don't like hairdresser talk, but this guy was more fun.