Time to Step Up My Haircut Game

Samurai

My haircut has grown stale and it is time for change. Step into a new hairstyle and all the confidence that comes with it. I’ve thought long and hard and I think I’m going Samurai. As seen above or possibly more like the lead singer of Tool used to rock, just one long ass ponytail originating from the middle-top of the skull, shaved elsewhere. I’ve documented my own hair loss on this site before, but a brief recap is in order:

-Shortly after leaving college I noticed that some areas of my hairline seemed to be under-staffed up front, off to the sides
-To combat this I just quit cutting my hair
-No one ever explained “layering”
-As a result I had a blonde mushroom for a head
-I looked like David Lee Roth
-The under-staffing issue inevitably became full-blown retreat of a French Army fleeing from the Horst Wessel song magnitude
-I had power alleys. One of the only ballparks in the league where it was 360 to straight away center but 420 to the power alleys
-The power alleys became a peninsula. I could live with a peninsula, kind of rock a Phil Collins sort of look, I mean Keyser Soze was a badass right?
-I’m now at the point where the peninsula, due to climate change, is becoming an island
-You can still walk or drive to the island during low tide
-We’re a couple more years of Chinese industrialization and vehicle purchase away from the island only being accessible via ferry or personal watercraft

As a result I’ve more or less shaved my head. I don’t break out a razor and cut myself 15 times a week but I dial the clippers down to a 1-guard and have at it. When you have a head like the Jolly Pumpkin had a kid with Charlie Brown, it is a solid look. But I’m ready to spice things up a bit which is why I now plan to shave the rest of my head, but let the island patch on top grow out 36 inches. How fucking rad would that shit be??? Can you imagine how utterly fucking sweet it would be to walk into Parent’s Night at my daughter’s preschool with a giant Samurai ponytail? I can already hear the whispers, “Oh my fucking gawd, who is that ass kicking machine? I’m so confused….the khakis and button-up blue oxford says run-of-the-mill suburban nerd dad but the top tail says leader of a dune buggy gang in a post-apocalyptic Mad Max movie. Quick, someone offer him some soda or Chex Mix before he gets pissed”. I’d have to beat the chicks off with a stick. Instead of walking into a room like a nobody my wife would start storming through doors like “I’m with StudHead, get us a fucking drink”. My daughters would be all, “Oh your dad is an investment banker at Goldman Sachs, how interesting. Our dad has that hair.” Boom, silence. I would stare down each and every mutherfucker I pass on the street, kids and old ladies included. You see the hair and you want the hair, but I am the hair. Like Katy Perry, you’re gonna hair me roar.

That last sentence was pathetic, embarrassing, and patently unfunny. But I had to. Not sure why but I had to. It was as though outside forces guided my typing fingers. Can’t take it back now.

About Zach

Male homo sapien. Warrior poet. I live in Chicago with one wife, one offspring, and Scout the dog. I enjoy various stuff. Besides skinny skiing and going to bullfights on acid, I also enjoy running, reading, drinking, eating and procrastinating on many things, such as starting this blog. I have a mom, a dad, and a younger brother who recently produced a sister-in-law. I'm the only person in my family, sister-in-law included, who doesn't have a post-graduate degree. I guess that makes me special. I grew up in a small to medium sized town in the middle of Ohio. In fact the even smaller town next door has a sign which reads "The Geographic Center of Ohio". Given this is what they choose to boast you can only imagine how exciting that town is. My town is infinitely cooler. For example on weekend nights people from my town and the surrounding villages and hamlets converge on the public square to "cruise" in their souped-up mini trucks, some bearing Confederate flags, despite growing up and living rather safely north of the Mason-Dixon line. This is high-minded stuff we're talking about here. I graduated sometime during the Clinton presidency from the local high school where I played football and participated in absolutely nothing else. This strategy paid huge dividends when I applied to numerous colleges on the eastern seaboard which were highly selective. When you show up to the admissions table with "HIgh School Football and Nothing Else" on your application, you get respect. After graduating from Ohio University with a degree in Economics that I've used for absolutely nothing, I moved to Boston. Boston is a lovely city. I was doing things I'm not proud of for beer money and I left after 16 months. My next move was to Chicago and 10+ years later there I still reside. I write this blog for therapeutic reasons. Much like some people paint to relax or smoke crack to unwind after a stressful day, I record my thoughts on Al Gore's World Wide Web for 9 friends, 4 family members, 1 person who accidentally clicked through after an unsuccessful Google search for something else, and a guy named Patriot1 who lives in a silver Air Stream in the Nevada desert and broadcasts his own radio show. Is there a point to all of this? I doubt it. Years ago and in a galaxy far, far away (College Park, Maryland, then Athens, Ohio) I was toying with the idea of being a journalism major. I enjoyed writing so it seemed the obvious fit. Then I attended career day and learned that journalism majors could look forward to a salary of $EA,TSH.IT per year with the promise of a fatal heart attack at 47 years of age. I'm not falling for that trick, I told them (them being no one, and told being saying it in my own mind in the shower). Approximately 15 years later here I sit declared the big winner in that battle: I never made any money doing anything else and now I'm writing entirely for free. So suck balls, journalism career day. The views expressed in this website are mine and mine entirely. I don't wish to be an even bigger black eye to my family than I probably already am. As a result of this I will never be able to run for public office and I accept that reality. But this website is a very dignified, well-dressed skeleton full of witty retorts and honorable deeds compared to the disheveled, stenching, staggering and loud skeletons who would come marching out of the closet to White Zombie's "Thunderkiss '65" if they ever unearthed the college years. So enjoy your train ride, your hangover day at work, your AA meeting or your dump. I'm here to serve.
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