"How would you like it cut?"

"Just your basic haircut. Short."

"OK."

(Snip. Snip. Snip . . . . )

Great, so now I suppose it's my turn to ask a question, right? Got to talk with the stylist. Mama always said, got to talk with the stylist. The duller she thinks you are, the duller your haircut will turn out.

But what are people who barely know each other talking about these days? The Super Bowl? No, she won't care about that. Nobody cares about the Super Bowl — the Seahawks are in it. The president's spying on Americans? No, she has scissors in her hands. Cowlicks? Hi, seen any good cowlicks lately? Nah.

I guess it's probably too late to go with a simple "How are you?" That's more of a pre-shampoo question. Hmm, maybe I'll ask her why she washes my hair eight times before cutting it. There's shampoo, and then there's conditioner — that's two times. But why the other six times?

Should I be shampooing myself eight times each day at home? No, I can't ask her that — what if I've been showering wrong all this time? I don't want her knowing that. Note to self: Find an anonymous hair-care message board on the Web and find out if I shampoo correctly.

OK, how 'bout I inquire about her holidays? A little "How was your Christmas?" action. Then again, we're well into January. We may be past the point of asking relative strangers about their holidays. Unless . . . unless, I ask her about her Martin Luther King Day. No, people don't ask about that. And it might come across as racist, and I don't want her to give me a skinhead cut. Are skinheads even still around? Maybe I'll ask her that. But that's more a later-in-the-conversation question, not an opener.

Man, she really has the advantage here. Her first question was a no-brainer. In fact, she was obligated to ask how I wanted my hair cut. Well, maybe that's my best bet: Talk about my hair. Where it's going, where it's been. I mean, my hair's the most obvious thing we have in common. Heck, she probably knows more about it than I do. (Is she keeping things from me?) But would she be interested in a detailed discussion of my hair? And, more importantly, would she be honest? I don't need to be buttered up, I need the truth.

Maybe I have this all wrong. Maybe she doesn't want to talk to me at all. Maybe she wants to cut my hair in silence — really savor the experience, become one with my hair. No, of course she wants to talk. That's what we're supposed to be doing. Oh, we should be just gabbing away! Next time, I'm hiring a seventh-grade girl to stand next to the chair and just talk for me. Hi, this is Ashley. She'll be holding up my end of the conversation. Ask her about our recent spats with Jenny.

I just wish the customer and the stylist at the chair next to us would shut up. They're making me look bad. I feel like my stylist is just listening to their conversation! And how long can they go on about Paul Newman's dressing? I know, it's good dressing. I know, he gives the proceeds to charity. OK, I'll try the light raspberry and walnut variety as soon as possible. Next topic!

Or, wait, maybe I can comment on their conversation, kind of piggyback off it. Um, speaking of dressing . . . But would that be appropriate? I know she's listening to them, and she knows I'm listening to them, but I don't think we're supposed to acknowledge that.

Ahhh! What am I even doing here at this fancy salon? Have I ever seen another man in here? I need to find one of those old barbers from Italy who doesn't speak any English and thinks his clients want to look at pornographic magazines and four-year-old copies of Field & Stream while they wait their turn. But then I wouldn't get that little head massage at the beginning. Love the head massage.

Would it be creepy to ask for another head massage? A mid-cut head massage. Wait a minute. She's opening her mouth. She's going to say something! We're going to talk!

"I am originally from Seattle and, hence, a huge Seahawks fan. I believe Bush's spying plan is perfectly legitimate. Paul Newman's balsamic vinaigrette is his greatest accomplishment. We have a policy of no mid-cut head massages. And, thanks, my Martin Luther King Day was absolutely wonderful. Oh, and could you stop thinking out loud?"

(Mark Bazer can be reached at mebazer@yahoo.com.)

(c) 2006 mark bazer, Distributed by Tribune Media Services, Inc.