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I might have told the story of the time, years ago, that the wife and I were so poor we decided to forego our monthly trip to the salon and instead cut each other's hair with sewing scissors. I proved to be a pretty bad hair stylist, but she was worse, and by the time we were finished we looked like we'd been in a tragic lawnmower accident. The girls down at Supercuts got a good laugh out of it, and even though we really could have used the $24, we laughed too.
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The president and I have a few things in common: a vastly underappreciated game of basketball (long abandoned, in my case), a wife who looks capable of winning arm-wrestling matches (and has, in my wife's case -- just not, ahem, against me), and a history with tobacco we'd both like to forget.