It's Friday afternoon and I'm at my grandmother's house on the South Side. I go to the basement to get a haircut. I want my hair cut short with a little bit left long in the front. Kind of like Tintin. The guy ends up shaving off the sides and back but leaving the top long. Everyone tells me it looks good but I refuse to look in a mirror. I go upstairs to the front bedroom to get a second opinion. I debate the merits of my current look with the new hair stylist. I tell him I wouldn't normally really care what I look like but it's Friday and I have to go to work at TerrorMania and then go to a high school basketball game. I end up being convinced that I look good. I decide to take a shower. Luckily, there's a shower in the front bedroom. I have to move the bed to expose the drain. There are people around and it's an open shower but I don't seem to mind. Later, while putting on my shoes, a woman looks at the bottom of one of my shoes and tells me that it says I've been banned from going to the basketball games because I had gotten too many high school girls pregnant.