Holly's been robbed. That is what I thought when I first saw the sign for Shad'z Hair Pub.
My best friend Holly had two passions: looking good and sipping cocktails. Before she lost her ability to dream, she used to talk about opening a salon where her clients could come in, order a martini, cosmopolitan or margarita and have all of their beauty needs met. Holly mastered the art of tending bar during her stint as starving college student. ("As God Is My Witness, I'll never be hungry again!") She then enrolled in a cosmetology program at a nearby vo-tech. Holly'z cocktail salon was almost a reality, and then the dream died.
The sign for Shad'z resurrected memories of conversations with Holly before marriage, before children, before getting stuck in the muck of the status quo... and accepting it. I was, at first, impressed with the creativity of the concept of a pub/barbar shop in Bugolobi. Upon further inspection, hope of getting a bad hair cut and not even caring because of inebriation was extinguished because Shad'z Hair Pub is a complete misnomer. There is no bar or tavern connected to it. (Wouldn't it be gross if they discovered a way to brew hair trimmings, made a beverage from it and served it at a hair pub? Almost as as gross and ill conceived as Kelly's beer float idea.)
Holly's the idea person. We at one time daydreamed of opening a laundry mat as a money laundering front for a mafia-type organization whose members only wore Armani suits and drove red Cadillac's.