ROMANTIC... QUADRANGULAR?

Typical night at work for the most; "famous" author of a book to beer nerds everywhere hosted a tasting that lasted longer than it should have, got real busy on the main floor real quick, had to fix several kegs, etc. Washed and stocked a variety of hundreds of glasses, blah.

Amongst the drudgery I spotted what is...no, one of my types, which is a skinny guy with a shaved head and glasses, sitting at the bar, with a regular, a woman who ALWAYS HITS ON me. Which is fun, it's playful and harmless flirting.

Anyways, they left after a round. But soon after, this other similar pair, also regulars came in, sat down at the bar...and an hour later the same pair from earlier returned. And very oddly enough they all knew each other, friends in fact (did not that know that previously).

So there were not one, but 2 guys that are my ideal matches...sitting between a woman that wants to get with me. Confusing! So I did the only decent thing I could think of, which was to get them drunk on bourbon (all it took was one shot each).

They left, I cleaned, and wrote this stupid post after 5 drafts of what I really wanted to say but I am struggling to. I even watched the good, but not great season finale of Lights Out. Sorry for the abbreviated finale to this, but if I don't wrap it up somehow, I won't.

A BRIEF HISTORY MY STUPID FUCKING HAIR

A year or 2 after I was forcibly removed from my Mother's womb, I sprouted a thick head of angelic blonde hair. It was long, shiny and made people's day. Over the years it got progressively shorter, and darker (not to mention a brief high school infatuation with dying it all sorts of colors *SO FUCKING PUNK RAWK*) until I finally settled on a reasonable compromise, which was nothing of the sort because I just buzzed it all off.

Usually by myself. With shitty clippers (or sometimes shitty places like Great Clips, or the Estonians down the block).

And for a awhile it worked. Knowing me is knowing that I dress simply, and besides the occasional cocaine/mushroom binge, live simply. Case in point; not only do I pay for the Tribune to arrive at my door, I fucking recycle. Crazy, I know. I'm saving Mother Earth, one bottle of Croatian beer at a time!

Anyways, so my fucking hair. Last time I was asked by a kind, gentle, elderly man if I was in "the Service" was back in January. It was trimmed a month later...and...not until right before my brother's wedding, approximately 2 months ago.

Perhaps it's the near onslaught of winter, but I have developed Hair-Muffs [patent pending] that impede entry of ear buds, produce a whistle whence strolling about this windiest of cities, and make me look like a lesbian.

Let's not even begin a discourse about the FUCKING KEGGER going on behind my head. I think, nay, I know Motely Crue circa 1985 is partying back there (opening for Van Halen). And my bangs sometimes brush up against my eyeballs. True. Story.

-I fear I look like my Mom after she's been yachting.

-I fear I look like I'm constantly searching for the nearest American Apparel store.

-I fear I look like I'll be smitten by otters.

-I fear I look like an asshole.

-I fear I look like I'm living out my secret Hair musical fantasy and you're not...so fuck you.

-I fear I look like I won't blend into Branson, MO, but I probably will (if I can hide the gay).

-I fear I look like I could be mistaken for someone named "Uncle Jesse".

-I fear I look like I enjoy shopping for hair traps for my shower at the Crafty Beaver (true).

-I like with gentle breeze of a mullet.

-I like looking like I got up and left without a thought about my appearance. Fuck looking good when you're humping the bus at 7:30am.

So...there you have it. I need a haircut. No later than Monday, because this shit on my head is really beginning to annoy me. I want to be able to put a pencil, or perhaps a pen behind me ear once again when I'm tasked with inventory duties. Short of that, perhaps I'll go sailing (grabs yellow Sony Walkman).

MUCH, MUCH BETTER

Last year I was so depressed I actually took the course of action that involved medical attention, specifically in the form of Lexapro (ugh, that happy looking couple can die in a furious car accident), and I never attended the therapy sessions I was prescribed.

But what I did learn, or rather, altered, is that when I'm sad, depressed, pissed off or whatever, is that no bad shit gets, emotionally, it's important NOT TO HOLD THAT SHIT IN. It can be embarrassing, and occasionally humiliating to express sadness; but what I've come to learn is that it's better to let it out rather than let it fester.

So I have my moments of weakness, and I do my best to relay these feelings, and then I move on, which is where I am now, as opposed to yesterday. I might self medicate with smoking and/or drinking, but goddamn, it allows me to speak up and express myself, instead of taking pills and being so placid I can't SPEAK THE FUCK UP.

When I'm alone I often get down and/or over think shit. But when I'm social I'm positively gregarious. I fucking love the shit out of my friends, and consider myself so lucky to have so many, awesome, awesome buddies and lady friends. I've got a lot to live for, and fully intend on sticking around/pissing people people off, haha!

You all are gonna have to deal with me for a long time; I'm not going anywhere, bitches. I realize I'm anything BUT perfect, flawed even, however I have a good heart and a sound mind. And I honestly love you all.

WHICH WAY TO THE BEACH?

One of my stated near term goals for my little break was to get back on a regular gym schedule. In particular, I wanted to use this opportunity to work out in the morning when I'm fresh. Yesterday I did just that, and worked out as hard as I have in at least 6 months. This resulted in me feeling super sore, but also, super good.

But when I awoke this morning at 9AM I was determined to hit it again, re-double my efforts, kick more ass and all that. I know I have a long way to go, but I thought posting a picture of my body on-line would provide me with the motivation I need. So...here it is...ME!

HAHAHA...yeah, I fucking wish I looked even a little bit like that. Although I don't have "body issues", and both guys that saw me naked last week said they "love" my body, I don't get it. I think I am very average in that department. And after spending the balance of August chugging Budweiser, I'm a bit self conscious of my mid-section.

Regardless of what others think, it's full steam ahead...I am going to whip my lazy ass into shape, no matter the pain that ensues (ugh...arm workout today, I think they might just fall off at some point tonight...damn, there goes the tattoo!).

Unfortunately, I think the good work I did this morning was offset by all the beer I drank this afternoon near the Cubs game (didn't get in, but spent the afternoon at Murphy's Bleachers). Also, I plan on starting to ride, rather than drive to the gym, the drugstore, bar, etc. My ass, arms, abs and chest are gonna rock!

AND GOOOOOOOOO CUBS! 7TH SR-8 WIN!

WHAT THE HAIR SHOULD I DO?

Every 2 weeks on my way from work I stop at a barber shop. They call it a salon, but really, any place that charges $7 to cut a man's hair is a barber shop. I really don't think many woman will trust another man to cut their hair, especially when the men are clearly not gay, and in this case Syrian. Maybe, I dunno.

Regardless, I do in deed trust these guys and although I always get a buzz cut, it's not as easy of a haircut as one might expect. In fact, I've burned through 3 other of these types of places because they failed to evenly use a #2 clipper blade on all sides of my head. But these guys really know their way around my, ahem...head.

Regardless, I've been getting a little bored of the same basic look and have decided I want to mix things up a bit. There is no way in hell I am growing my hair out; I've tried that many, many times and frankly, I'm just not meant to have hair longer than an inch in length. When my hair gets long it gets wavy and the only to tame it is with liberal amounts of product, which I loathe in any form.

So I figure that leaves me with 3 options, which I have outlined below. You, loyal readers, have the opportunity to influence my decision on which way I will go, so THINK HARD!

#1 The Buzz Cut

Rather than using the #2 blade I could have my capable barber buzz my head using a #1 blade instead of #2. This would not be a drastic change and therefore a fairly boring one, but perhaps the conservative route suits me best.

Also, when it's freshly shorn I have this habit of rubbing my head when I'm trying to make my mind. Somehow I think this action helps my thought process, I guess (rubbing head).

But I've been shaving my head on and off since Junior year of high school, and I think a change of some sort, would be welcome. So...

#2 The Crew Cut

Ironically, I have almost gotten a few of these on accident. Before I sit down in the chair I remove my glasses and have no idea what the barber is doing (I am blind as a bat w/o contacts or glasses) and several of them have misinterpreted my instructions and avoided buzzing the top of my head.

On at least 2 occasions attempts were made to talk me out of this before I reassured the barber/stylist that I know what I want done. It's not a bad look but I'm not sure it would look good on me, although I could easily just have the "top" shaved right off it looks like shit.

#3 The Buzz/Crew/Mohawk Cut

This would NOT be a faux hawk. As I previously stated, I do not like putting product on my hair. Rather, this would be a hybrid of a buzz/crew cut and a Mohawk. I'm worried that this could look like a landing strip or just make me look like a total poser.

Within the last week I saw 2 guys with this haircut, and they both looked really, really hot. Not that I am anywhere near as good looking as these guys, but I think I could pull it off. Maybe. Of course, I think the guy in that picture is smokin' hot, so my judgment could be clouded.

If anyone has any other suggestions, let 'em rip!