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I have lost all faith in the trend setters of the world. Yes, they have gotten lazy. It seems of late, hipsters have been dipping in the weird and ugly clothing pile of yore to create funky and “ironic” fashion choices to tickle the masses. Well I’m not biting, dammit!  

I found myself enjoying a wonderful plate of sushi with good company when the topic of discussion somehow rode into the frontier of trends. Apparently, Ghostface Killah from Wu-Tang Klan loves Wallabee shoes. Not only does he wear them, he loves to rap about them and calls himself the “Wallabee King.” This would be one thing if the shoe was awesome- but unfortunately these clod hoppers look like the result of a one night stand between those thickly padded nurse shoes and boat loafers. They are ugly… the worst kind of ugly too… Old People Ugly- the type of ugly which seems to scream that you just don’t care any more and would prefer to just wear a sensible track suit and motor around the mall in your Jazzy Power Chair.

Who started this damn trend…. turning shit-shit into cool shit?! Seriously when did it begin? With that godforsaken trucker hat? That was stupid, but at least I believe the trend gods have moved on- Banishing them along with Uggs to the Isle of What Was I Thinking. To say these items are hip are to equate yourself with a tourist from eastern Europe… you’re THAT far behind in fashion.

Now, I’m not saying that I’m a style maven or what have you… no far from it, but at least I have the common sense to stick with a t-shirt and jeans.

Here are a list of some of the culprits who are trying to make this decade the goofiest looking since the 1970s:

1. Kanye West- Urkle Glasses are not cool looking.. in fact neither are you, Kanye… yea I said it, your just a grown up dork. I know because I’m one, and I act like my shit don’t stink either- but deep down be both know we were artsy nerds in High School.

2. Thrift Store Shopper- so I’m putting this one in here because some of these so called “treasure hunters” go too far. Yes, that retro leather jacket was a good find, but just because that muu- muu was fifty cents doesn’t mean it will look good with a white vinyl belt.

3. Art School Kids- Stop trying to seek attention… just stop it!

I can’t think of anything else right now… but you fools know who you are!!!

Something even worse than a tacky trend, is a tacky trend that is trying so hard to catch on, but just can’t seem to get the lasting power. With that I present the Fanny Pack. Hipsters have been trying for years to get this shit to catch back on. BUT guess what suckas? No one wants any part of that shit. HA! At the very least I can be assured that some tacky items will forever remain tacky. Thank the lord.

Is it just me or does it seem like Anthony Kiedis from the Red Hot Chili Peppers is just making up lyrics as he goes?

Our Earth is not filled with gorgeous people.

Contrary to what MTV, the CW, and various gossip magazines would like you to believe- the world is actually populated with attractive to very attractive people, not inexplicably beautiful people. The average good looking person has one or two stand out features that are their claim to fame (ohhh Jordan has such beautiful cheek bones), where as ridiculously gorgeous people tend to have it all.  Obviously, these types don’t come around that often, unless you find yourself in Hollywood or something, and the majority of those people are about 75 percent silicone. Here in the normal world,  your best bet is gonna be an above average person with a nice haircut.

Most people (including me) do not realize that we aren’t surrounded by incredibly mind blowingly good looking people until we run across one… and it’s weird.

I’m not talking about someone youthink is pretty, nooo, that’s subjective… I’m talking about a man or a woman who fits the stereotypical form of beauty to an exquisitely crafted “T”. True this is also subjective, because one nation’s opinion of the pinnacle of beauty could be completely different from another- but since I’m located in America- neck elongation will not be apart of this discussion.

I was having a very slob-rific day yesterday… brunch, shopping, general laziness with friends- this is all part of my active campaign to avoid cleaning my room and apartment. Since I had spent the previous two days trying to look my best- make up, dresses, blah blah blah- I woke up and said a big “fuck you” to general hygiene. I slapped a hat on and charged into the world wearing a mix of clothing found in the “mess moat” surrounding my bed. To conclude a day full of shopping, my roommate and I decided on a slice of pizza and a beer. Upon walking into the pizzeria, I was met with possibly the most handsome man I’ve seen in three dimensions-since who knows when.

I say handsome because, as my roommate described him- he had a very ”clark kent” look about him, a man’s man, you know. Well over 6 feet, built, strong jaw, dimples, full head of shiny black hair, even had a slight cleft chin- which is dangerous- because a large cleft looks like a butt on ones face. He was the definition of Tall, Dark, and Handsome.  

Strangely, my knee jerk reaction was to punch him. Yes, I thought he was beautiful and hot and sexy and yadda yadda… but there is that something about really (and I mean really) good-looking people that induces involuntary eye rolls. Beauty is the poor man’s way at getting to the top, and I believe this is why we both love and despise incredibly attractive people. All over the world- and especially here in America- you got to offer something of value to earn your keep. True- things have gotten a little abstract in our advanced age- but ultimately, in order for you to get some sort of recognition you got to offer up some worth. You can pretty much put all categories of worth into three segments: smart, entertaining, and beautiful.

Entertaining is by far the hardest- first you have to be creative, it has to be entertaining, then you have to promote, and finally you have to know the right people who can get your form of creative entertainment to the public. Phew.

If you’re smart, you’re kinda born with it- but with those smarts you have the ability to create cures, technology, laws, at the very least you can shoot off some witty banter at the dinner table. But being smart can also be the most punishing. If you’re smart and people know it, but you aren’t doing anything with your intelligence- people will view you as the ultimate fuck up.

But being beautiful… you’re born that way, and all you have to do is just sit there. It’s almost like being born with extra tokens… because if you’re are mildly entertaining or mildly smart… you can pretty much steal the show from average people who have worked damn hard to wedge out a little place in society. Hell, even mildlyretarded beautiful people get some cred. And here is where I bring up the stereotype of stupidity- yes, it is an automatic presumption that all ridiculously pretty people are dumb-asses. Yes, these types do exist, but there are also some really stupid ugly people too (strange how these types then to think they are incredibly good looking). To flip the coin there are also some really smart, incredibly attractive people in this world… I have yet to meet any, but I’m sure there’s one lurking around.

Once again, I must point out that I am not talking about average normal everyday nice looking people. I’m talking pinnacle… pluck them from the street and place in a Vogue spread beautiful. The very few (count on your hand) times, I’ve have the opportunity to be in a room with one of these types, I’ve noticed that they aren’t the sharpest tools out there. I’m not talking slow, just sort of silly dim wits. This begs the question- if you are born a beautiful person do you just give up and choose to depend on your beauty or is it a give and take situation?

I’d like to talk about another type of “give and take” - a little hypothesis I like to call the genius/crazy theory. Working in the public library I tend to encounter a large amount of crazy people. This ranges from pleasantly eccentric to the half naked with wild eyes. I’ve noticed that many of the insane people I’ve worked with are incredibly smart. A regular patron of mine always asks for archaic texts about laws, and mechanical do-higgies- but is always covered in what could either be chocolate or shit. In the fifth grade, a classmate of mine could complete complex algorithms and read at a college level- but he constantly chewed at his sleeve and some how always managed to be upside down in his chair. From my various examples- I’ve deduced that if your that smart something has to go, usually social graces or hygiene- and for the incredibly smart- both.

So is this true with beautiful people- some sort of divine way to even out the playing field? Opps! Made this one too pretty- gotta make them stupid. I’d like to think that it was this way- and sometimes I still giggle to myself about this thought- but more and more I find myself returning to the other option of reliance on beauty- mostly because of two key factors: Fat Kid Syndrome, and a little something I like to call Sudden Boob Syndrome.

I can’t take credit for Fat Kid Syndrome- that term has been kicked around for years- meaning a once fat (or ugly) kid- transforms into a beautiful adult. This beautiful adult is usually unaware of their new-found good looks- and tends to be incredibly more down to earth and smarter than their gorgeous counterparts. Don’t get me wrong there are other issues with Fat Kid Syndrome…insecurities, awkwardness, but in the scope of this discussion- being dumb is not one of their common problems. Adults who used to be or think they were ugly- had to rely on something else to get by and therefore were not afflicted with the slowing of the brain which happens when you are constantly being celebrated for your good looks. If you meet a humble beautiful person- ask them if they have a horror story commonly circa the pre-teen/teenager stage- and you’ll most likely get an ear full.

I like to call my other affliction Sudden Boob Syndrome after a former friend of mine. In middle school she was flat as a pancake. Like so flat I don’t think she had nipples, but really smart and pleasant to be around. Then high school hit, and almost over night- BOOBS! My poor friend became increasingly vapid (and popular) through the four years of High School. I don’t know what she’s like now, because the bigger her boobs got, the less communication we had. I’ve seen this happen many times- not always with boobs- a teenage guy will discover he is now attractive to the ladies- and suddenly a pretty switch is flicked on causing the smart one to flip off. I don’t get it, but I’ve seen it. Usually this has to happen at a young age- shortening the time spent as an average person.

Unfortunately, this little revelation is a reflection on ourselves… it’s so easy to say, “Oh she’s too pretty, so she has to be stupid.” By saying this, we are continuing the pedestal of pretty- making it okay for good-looking people to merely exist on their appearances, the very thing we despise them for.

Beauty is such a fickle bitch… because honestly the cliche is true, the more you get to know a person they can become prettier or uglier depending on various factors- I just wish that teaching the value of inward beauty held a stronger ground against outward appearances. I wish I could end this post with wonderful words of how I will try my hardest to see each and everyone for their inner beauty, but I know for a fact the next incredibly beautiful person I see will make me want to gag.

I’ve decided that there is a direct correlation between tackiness and jerkiness. If you’re tacky, chances are you’re going to be a jerk. This dawned on me about an hour ago when I was leaving for work and a car was parked so closely behind mine that the front license plate was resting on my back bumper. No, my dear readers, it wasn’t centimeters away from my bumper, it was ON my bumper. When I unlocked my car, the anti theft system notified me that my alarm had be set off.

Funny. And not funny HA HA, because dear reader, as I was writing this blog about jerks I happen to encounter the worst kind. Maybe I’ll get back to my previous story, but the tackiness of a car doesn’t compare to the quiet rage I’m experiencing right now.

Before I started this blog, I waltzed into my job at a community college- yes, I moonlight as a librarian in various settings. At the desk, my colleague was helping a patron. I thought it was semi- interesting that the patron and my colleague looked incredibly similar- Two golden girls with sassy no mess  grandma haircuts, so silver, it could only mean they both used to be blond. I wondered what it would be like to help my doppleganger, decided it would be freaky and chose to kill some time and dilly dally around the stacks. The patron excused herself and I causally sauntered over to start my shift. Before my colleague left, we had a meaningless conversation about our shared love of Sharpie pens, and I settled in for an easy night of reference work.

I started this blog, helped a few students, then looked up to find my colleague’s cookie cutter patron standing before me. She had a wayward look in her eyes that I could tell after many hours of work in the Public Library Magazine and Newspaper room, that she was not completely with this universe. I told myself that she probably was a little bit eccentric and I asked if she needed help. The woman told me in a sickly sweet voice how my colleague had allowed her to use the computers situated behind me, and basically told me to turn them on for her to use again. These computers are reserved for students in a particular library oriented class. I know this because I once let some other wayward looking student use it, and got yelled at by my hard as nails boss. I contemplated letting her use it for a minute, then because of my history with these computers, and since she didn’t ask (closer to demanded), I decided against it. I politely told her that she could use the regular computers for 30 minutes if she was a student.

She wasn’t a student. 

This pissed me off- if you’re at a college… and you’re not a student here, why are you demanding to use the computer? I told her that she already got time on these computers, more than any other non-student, and that I was sorry and couldn’t let her use them again. In response she started to get sassy (but in that damn fakey sweet way), she told me that the other woman let her use it, and it only made sense because no one was using the computers. In my head I quietly agreed, BUT I wasn’t about to get yelled at again, and if my boss said no one could use them, I was going to follow my boss.  Once again I told her no, but this time tried to let he know my stand point on the issue… you know, work the sympathy angle. If she used the computer, then everyone else would want to use the computers, and the whole situation would erupt in a crazy ass snowball of students and non-students yelling at me for not being fair. She skimmed right over this answer, and here’s when the fun began. In her nicey- fun timey voice proclaimed that I didn’t know how to do my job and she wanted someone who was incharge of me. I said I was incharge- because I am. To this she stated that the woman (my colleague) who was at the desk before me must be a higher position and demanded that she speak with her. I told her that she and I had the same position- because we do. She said that couldn’t be true and wriggled her hands around gesturing at me. Being black and half her age, and due to her ”look at you gestures” I now concluded that I was currently being blatantly discriminated against. Soft discrimination is a day to day occurrence, but blatant… this was an event I didn’t feel like dealing with at the moment. Was it blatant racism or blatant ageism… take your pick, both are shitty.

I smiled, but as Miss Tyra banks has told many Top Model contestant, “I did not smile with my eyes.” I used my dead cold eyes to watch her continue with her sweetly voiced tirade, which consisted of how I was STUPID for not letting her use the computer and that I was not WORTHY for this job title. I wanted to scream at her ” YOU ARE ACTING LIKE A WHITE PRIVELLGED ENTITLED BITCH” but instead, I gritted my teeth stood up and calmly walked her over to the desk where the head librarian (a black woman) was supposed to be. She was a lunch.

Damn it.

I asked the library tech if my boss had a business card handy, he handed it over. I gave it to her, and she demanded both of us to help her now, because she didn’t have time to come back tomorrow.

oh really.

She proclaimed, “The woman before you was incredibly smarter than you. Some people do not deserve certain positions.” The library tech and I exchanged a very loaded look. I once again told her to take her issue up with the head librarian and that she could come back tomorrow or wait till she returned from lunch. To this the library tech replied,

“oh, she can wait.”

I quickly scurried back to my desk and sat numbly, trying to soak in all that had happened. I wondered if I was in the wrong. My boss came strolling in and I watched from afar as the woman pantomimed the encounter- no doubt demonizing me. I held my breath and waited for my boss’ reaction. She was expressionless, a quality that scares the crap out of me when she dealing my bullshit. Then it happened, my boss began to vigorously shake her head, and mouth the words, “No. You can’t use the computers. No, they are reserved for students, you are not a student. You can go to the public library.”

Relief flowed throw my veins, and at that instant I realized how hot my face had become through this whole situation. As I leaned back, I realized that the computer lab where my boss referred her to go, was in fact located in my department of my other job . I chuckled softly imaging her face as I greeted her at the door, and how I had a special computer reserved especially for her next to my favorite alcohol soaked porn loving patron.

I am so sick of Californians saying they don’t have an accent, because “we live where movies are made.”

I’ve heard this damn statement so many times in my short little life, that it amazes me that people still believe this haber-dash to be truth. I’m a native Californian, and yes, I have an accent, a ridiculous one at that. In fact, all accents are pretty ridiculous… if you want to break it down.

Californians speak fast and sloppy. Fast is an understatement… if you’re from California and you don’t think you speak fast… well, my friend, take a trip to the good ole south and try on their pace for size. It’s painful. I recently went to Georgia and having a conversation is like watching maple syrup develop and eventually drip from the damn tree. My ex is from Texas and whenever liquor is introduced to a situation out comes the Good Ole Southern Boy who likes to savor his words- while I find mine repulsive and quickly spit them out.

I say sloppy because we either abreviate or run everything together. There is a local bar in my neck of the woods called the Lost Weekend. Two very simple words- but me and my lazy ass California friends have shorted it to the even easier phrase, “L-Dub” we can’t even say “Double U” !!! Sure this is all under the guise of looking/ sounding cool- but I chalk it up to our lazy accent. Lets examine the United States favorite food, the foot long sandwich, which takes on a different title depending on which region of the US you happen to reside. Some places call it a Hoogie, or a Hero, lazy Californians call it a Sub… Sub- it sounds like a fancy grunt… sub. Change the “B” to “P” and you got a greeting.. instead of saying “what’s up” it’s now “sup” Seriously… in about 100 years California natives will only speak in complex grunting. We’re going to go full circle and revert back to Cavemen.

Now aside from Fast and Sloppy- we Californians tend to use the same damn words in every sentence: Like (being the most popular and stereotypic), hella, totally, really, definitely, man, dude, whatever, right, and there are more. These words, for some unknown reason, have adopted multiple meanings in our speech pattern. Most bounce between space fillers and adjectives. Space-fillers are the Kryptonite of Californian speech. We might have gotten away with sounding semi-quasi intelligent with only fast and sloppy speech, but throw in a few “likes” “dudes” and “hellas” and we sounds like a pile of dumbasses. To to be clear, I don’t think there is one American accent that makes you sounds smart. I challenge anyone to name one.

East Coast: abrasive

South: Slooooooow

MidWest: Nasally and simple

So why do Californians still think they are hot shit on a platter? Well, it’s easy- we have a blinding sense of pride. There are only two other states with such humungo ignorant self importance: Texas (remember… don’t mess with it) and New York, and by New York I  mean New York City. There is New York (city) and Upstate New York (everything above New York City). Has anyone ever noticed that Upstate New York is actually the entire state of New York? Anyway, New York City pride can be classified as New York State pride because, well, they have the same name- smart move I might add.

Nowhere else are you going to hear people proclaim allegiance to to their state as much as this trifecta of arrogance. I would know, I suffer from it. I think California is the best state in the nation. My parents are from New York, even though they might be proud California transplants- it’s not uncommon for them to slip in a sly New York reference. Everywhere else in this country pride is city related… It’s more common to hear “I love Chicago” than “I love Illinois” I had a hard time with geography when I was a kid because many of the states the housed notorious American cities didn’t seem to match: Cleavland and Ohio, Boston and Massachusetts, Seattle and Washington, plus Philadelphia and Pennsylvania. The cities seemed too cool for their given states, my little 8 year old noggin just could not comprehend it. For California, Texas, and New York we leave city specifics for when we are actually in the state- when in another state- all we have to nonchalantly say is “oh, me? I’m from California” While others feel obliged to mention their cities: Omaha, Miami, Portland, Las Vegas, New Orleans, just to name some other seemingly stateless cities.

Looking at the trifecta of arrogance- it’s easy to notice that Texas and New York have incredibly noticeable and unforgiving accents. Out of the three, we Californians sound like refined princesses- therefore causing a statewide delusion.

California, we have accents, I say it’s time we stop denying it and rejoice in our cadence, because, like, seriously, no one really on the evening news totally sounds like this, man. You know?

I want to be a rock star.

It’s just that simple.

There is this deep down chug that pushes me towards the harsh dirty lifestyle of living on the edge. Believe me, I know being a rock star is harsh- but I’m young…sort of. I recently fell in love with a band who’s ages spanned the incredible huge and old range of 18-20. buh. Being a whole five years older than the sage member of the group… a fire was recently lit.

I don’t just want the magic of performance- I want the lifestyle. I already live from pay check to pay check… I dress weird and I know a bunch a musicians… what memo did I miss where I decided to go down the path of Librarian and hold up a poo-pooing hand towards excitement? Well, money, stability, and a love for information distribution- but lets not get into that right now.

Playing dingy bars state to state, swigging a beer before rushing the stage. Blowing people’s minds with my jams, witty banter, and outrageous attire. I imagine spandex, fringe, glitter, and garish colors. I want to command the stage, challenge the audience, take no prisoners in my path to rock. Maybe even conquer a groupie or two.

yet.

And that’s a big YET.

I have no musical talents. Well, I played the oboe. Who wants to hear a rockn’ oboe. I sure as hell don’t. For my lack of music talents- I would HAVE to be the lead singer (damn…), and I can’t really sing- but that hasn’t stopped many popular lead singers. I just have to have that swagger, and ability to write a kick ass song.

I kinda doubt I’ll ever fulfill my sexy rock goddess dreams, but at least I know that in my heart of hearts I can shake the fuck out of a tambourine.

There is something incredibly disheartening about the inability to fall asleep.

I’ve suffered with insomnia since I was little kid…. and it doesn’t seem to be letting up any time soon. I can remember staring at the light pour under my closed door, wishing that I could watch Unsolved Mysteries with my parents, but usually (on a lucky night) I would fall asleep within an hour or so. Yet every so often, I’d find that I’d still be awake after the television had been turned off, the lights snuffed, and the sleepy murmuring of my folks were replaced by silence. This is when my imagination would run wild. I saw huge muppet like creatures materialize from a heap of clothing, shadows cast on beloved stuffed animals would turn them evil, and to make matters worse- we must have lived in the creakiest apartment constructed post 1970. Ducking my head under my blankets tended to work for a period of time, but all my scared heavy breathing would force me to raise my head out of the cocoon for fear or being steamed like floret of broccoli.

This insanity has continued to present day… in fact the only way I can ensure a quick good night sleep is to go to bed late- when I’m absolutely the most tired and will (hopefully) pass out. This is virtually the same thing, except instead of staring at the wall in my dark and spooky room- I’m watching TV and waiting for my eyes to start to burn. Sometimes, I’ll drag my dead tired body to bed, flop under the covers, and release a sigh that could shake the world. For any normal person this is the beginning of sweet slumber- instead my eyes will pop open, and I will be forced to deal with another sleepless night.

Why can’t I sleep? I think too much. During the day my brain is in a perpetual whirl. Even when I’m trying to relax and empty out my thoughts- I begin to think about why I can’t empty out my thoughts, how would one start to empty out their thoughts, and had I emptied out the trash today? I swear this must be some form of ADD…

Last week for some crazy weirdo reason, I suffered with a full week of insomnia… which was disturbing. During the evening, it was the same ole tale- but with each day of increasingly less sleep- life began to get weird.

When you are sleep deprived there are three stages: 1. tired 2. reserve energy 3. zombie

Reserve energy is your second tank of brain juice. It’s like a second wind- you were once tired, but all of a sudden you can think again, most importantly- you can once again pretend to care what the other person is saying during a boring conversation. Yet, there is a twist to this wonderful extra energy. It’s Loopy. Yea, you’re going, but you’re singing, making jokes, and laughing over really stupid reasons. It’s almost like being high… here’s a trick kids…wanna get stoned… don’t sleep for two days.

I am usually able to get some rest by the time I enter the whacked out crazy world of reserve energy… not last week. I finally entered the third scary stage of Dead Tired Walking Zombie. Eyes peel open after an hour of sleep, I would stare at the wall- blank. I would somehow maneuver myself into the upright position and just sit at the edge of my bed- blank. How long I would last in these positions? I have no clue, time has no place in the land of the undead. Pulling on the same outfit as the previous day- I would groan as I put on two different shoes. Driving was only mildly safe after coffee intake. After parking I would sit and stare out my window- blank.

Who knows, maybe this was my body’s way of allowing my brain to finally take a break from thinking too much. I was able to get some sleep last night, but it’s a constant game of catch up. Hopefully soon, I’ll return to the land of the living and the sane.

I hate being starred at… I guess more importantly, I hate catching people starring at me. Even more importantly, I hate catching people starring at me who refuse to look away even after I’m starring at them starring at me.

I’m pissed off at hair.

I hate the concept of hair.  It has to be the most overrated piece of the human anatomy aside from boobs. This doesn’t mean that I’m above the stated infatuation… no, I would bet that I’m one of the main suspects who keep this obsession alive. I’m a slave to my hair, but unfortunately I’m able to recognize how stupid this preoccupation is. I wish I could just blindly accept that hair is a huge portion of my concern, or be bold enough to shave it all off- but I can’t, so I’m stuck in a terrible vortex of spending hours fixing it, pouring over hair magazines, and cursing the wind as it jacks up my bangs, all the while hating the fact that I’m even using precious brain power on this inane subject.

Hair’s sole purpose is to keep our weird unprotected human bodies warm. THAT’S IT. Yet, there is so much emotional value put into hair it’s unbelievable. I’ll even venture to say the shittier your hair looks the more you treasure it. A mullet is not a sexy hair style. There are web pages dedicated to making fun of this terrible look(www.mulletsgalore.com , www.mulletjunky.com , www.mulletmadness.com) - BUT people with mullets LOVE their hair and seem to take pride in their blind refusal to accept how the hairstyle is a social pariah. Sometimes I wonder if people actually believe their hair to be another being or a pet. The grooming, the nourishing, many even cry when it is cut (mostly ladies with stringy butt grazing locks), and this attachment to hair is not only for the style inept. Obviously people who have no qualms with change obsess about their follicles… me being one of them. I always searching for the next hairdo, don’t think I’ll ever be satisfied unless I have a few hairstyles to switch back and forth between.

People cut it, dye it, perm it, relax it, curl it, straighten it, shave it, razor it, wax it, wash it, condition it, hot oil treatment it, comb it, brush it, braid it, twist it, lock it, bead it, ribbon it, tread it, pin it, wrap it, gel it, mouse it, tease it, part it, spray it, bleach it- ack! The list continues and it wont stop- because every time I turn around there is a new freaky thing people can do to their hair…. and I’ll probably try it.

Now, I used to be incredibly jealous of guys… they can just shave it off, and bam… still stylish. When a woman shaves it all off the assumption is that she’s either sick or making a bold fashion statement. Which is shitty, because a bald woman can be a beautiful thing- look at model Alek Wek. My previous notions about men and their hair, have since changed after I have gotten to know some men who are currently loosing/lost their hair.

They are… sincerely heart broken.

I know it may not be obvious, and many of them would argue against this, but I feel men spend an equal amount of time fretting about their follicles as their female counter parts.

I’d like to direct the attention of the jury to example A1- a male friend of mine who has always adhered to the “shave it off and let it grow” practice, decided to shave it off once again. When I hear that a guy has shaved his head, I basically picture some dude in a bathroom going at it with a pair of clippers, waggling his head over the sink, grunting, then going off to scratch his balls of whatever guys do when ladies aren’t around. So it was quite a surprise to find this friend of mine appear at my door, clippers in hand, whining about how his neckline needed to be evened out.

While ladies focus on grand sweeping gestures in hair styles- men obsess over the minute. While I begrudingly evened out my friend’s neck line- I relived the many moments of watching boyfriends stare into the mirror complaining about the longer sideburn on the left side.

As for facial hair… men go ape shit. I cannot begin to count the various beards, mustaches, goatees, and soul patches I’ve witnessed on the faces of my friends and lovers. People have recently used the term “Man-Scaping” to refer to the new attention men are giving to their much neglected body hair- I beg to differ… “Man-Scaping” is the age old practice of treating your face as your own private topiary garden. I personally, have never seen my father’s upper lip.

Some men can’t grow beards… when a guy admits that he has splotchy facial hair it’s almost equal to when a woman admits she uses a push up bra. 

When a famous person does something drastically different with their hair, masses of people flip out. More people freaked out over Britney Spears’ shaved head than when she drove down the street with a baby in her lap. Our obsession with hair is completely derived from our attention to image. This is an image driven society- there have been numerous studies stating how beautiful people get hired faster and paid more. So even though I think it’s stupid and annoying how much attention is paid towards hair- it’s understandable why we as an American public love it so much. Hair is the quickest way to change your look, make a statement, or feel pretty. Granted your face will always be your face, but sometimes it’s amazing how a different style or cut can completely change the way you look.

I just wish more of the public would appreciate how wonderful faces are, and quit trying to cover them up. Hair should come second to your face- not vice versa. This might be a little hippie of my to say, but if everyone truly looked into each other’s faces maybe we’d all find something in common, instead of getting distracted by how different the accessories are.