11.19.2002 Bad Hair Day
Rather than use hairspray or a harsh gel, switch to a minimum hold gel for a more natural look.
We did so many cool things while in Houston that I wish I could write about it all. Weird though--cool things always refers to stuff one doesn't normally do, which in this case are suburban things I really miss from Rochester--like going out to the mall or just easy access to drive-thru fast foods. Odd also is that after speaking to a few people while in Houston, they noted how much they liked it whenever they visited places like New York City. This just goes along with the theory about the grass being greener.
Anyhow, I wanted to still revisit my ventures in post-adolescent complexes and talk about the ever-pressing topic of ... my hair. I know--you may have had other things in mind, ... um.
My hair. This is something that, honestly, I haven't given too much thought to since I was a spunky teen. As some of you know, I used to be into heavy metal music and used to pride myself in having a long, sometimes permed, rock-n-roll hairstyle. Well, it was fun while it lasted. The past decade plus has been better spent having a wash-n-go hairstyle.
Well, I decided to start letting it grow again. Lately, it seems to be more fashionably acceptable and hey, it's just downright fun. It just got past that annoying length--the one where the ends of the hair curl around and jab me in the eyeballs. It's weird too, cause suddenly, I have to start using a brush again or I get nappy tangles.
But you know-I found all this out just this week. Whereas the previous week was spent me angrily pushing and shoving my static-ridden nappy hair away from my eyeballs. I must have looked like a mad aggravated weirdo or something. Ironically, and I say this like I mean it--ironically, this was also the week where I had to go to the DMV to renew my license.
The last time I did this, they just recycled my previous picture, where I thought I looked half way decent--this being a rarity, cause I'm not the most photogenic fellow. I guess they let you keep the previous picture when the clerk feels you still closely resemble the photo. Well, if you can imagine, the clerk raised her head to look at me meanwhile, I annoyingly shove my static-ridden hair away from my aggravated eyeballs and try to mimic the pretty-boy-like photo on my license. The clerk took a second to smile slightly before saying, "Please proceed to camera line number 1."
Oh, the great joy I will have now awaiting my new license to come in the mail--probably just in time for Christmas too.
Oh, happy happy joy joy.