A hair-raising tale

I’m worried about humanity. Every day I see something more and more stupid than the day before. I don’t think we have a chance. You know what? I misspoke. Or mistyped. Not humanity. Humanity might be getting more stupid every day too, but I really mean men. If men had to promulgate the species by themselves, we’d still be in the Dark Ages. And probably in the dark as well. Especially if those men are, as almost all men will be sometime, starting to thin a little up at the hairline.

Oh my Heavens, you would think the world is coming to an end. As soon as it seems there is just a little creep backwards in the hairline, all aich, ee, double hockey sticks breaks out. “Frick! My hair is falling out! I’m not a man anymore!!” So genius that he is, he shaves his head. “Now it will look like a fashion statement, not that I’m bald.” Yeah, right.

But then, genius that he is, he knows how to use a computer and discovers testosterone is necessary for hair growth. Naturally he makes the connection, no hair means he has no testosterone. No testosterone means he only has his oversized red pick-up truck to prove he’s a man and he can’t take that to bed with him. What will he do?

Now this idiot remembers elementary school math and knows that 2 plus 2 equals something, so he adds them up and comes up with a solution. If he has to have hair to pick up women, then by gosh, he’ll grow some hair. But his head is off limits because he just spent a bazillion dollars on a fancy 17 head rotary razor designed especially for thinning and balding men to recapture their outer beauty by mowing away whatever hair might be left growing out of the top of his head. Next best thing to head hair? That’s right — facial hair! So he grows a beard. And not a sophisticated, well-groomed, trim offering like the debonair George Clooney. Oh no. He does the full on, don’t come near me with a pair of manicure scissors, scraggly, end of the world, manly man’s beard like ZZ and his friend, Top.  

Oddly, he still can’t pick up women, so since he is a genius, his first thought is that his truck isn’t big enough. A reasonable assumption. Everyone knows the larger the truck the more manly the man. Ask any used car dealer. So he goes all out, gets an even bigger, even redder, this time diesel pickup with bigger and shinier wheels and tires too. And takes the mufflers off to make certain his is noticed and not overlooked for some weeny in a Tesla. And he still goes home alone after spending all night at the bar. Now what’s the problem?

When he gets home he looks at himself in the mirror and decides he’d sleep with him if he had a chance. But even genius lunatic that he is, he sees something just doesn’t look right with a ZZ Top beard below a cue ball head. How can we fix that? Right! Get a hat! So the hext day he heads out to the fashion capital of the world, Walmart, and gets a hat. He’d like one with a pick-up on the front so he can double up on his manly man ride, but all he can find is one with a tractor on the front and a bull saying “Who farted?” and buys 3 of them so he’ll never run out. Remember, we are dealing with genius.

So now he has his manly man hat covering up his manly man bald shaved head above his manly man beard and he hops into his manly man truck and scoots on down to the local dive bar looking for a woman who can’t wait to be in the arms of a true manly manly man.

Just one problem. If he should find a female looney enough to match on him, he will have found her thus attired which means he can never ever never remove his hat except to shave his head, so he now goes through life with a hat on his head (a hat that says, “who farted?”) everywhere he goes, including out to fancy dinners, church and school functions, shopping, doctor appointments, job interviews, even when he goes to have his manly man truck cleaned up and made shinier where he can sit in the waiting room and share his manly man wisdom.

So if you ever run across a guy who looks like ZZ Top with a hat on climbing down out of big red manly man pickup truck, don’t try to pick him up. He’s taken. Mostly with himself.   


It makes sense that governments can’t take time to regulate everything in life, thus the unwritten law. But which is more powerful – the unwritten rule, or the desire to pursue life, full steam ahead?



A Close Shave

I had another thought about shaving while shaving. Actually I guess a thought, not necessarily another thought. I don’t often think about shaving. I just do it though sometimes not as often as I should. And that’s ok since most of the time hair stops growing all by itself. In fact, we even talked about that once in “A Hair Raising Thought.” By that was about cutting hair. This is about shaving and the difference is about as dramatic as the difference between shaving with a single blade or with six of them.

To be dramatic about it, what difference does it make anyway? I’m old enough to remember when razors came with just one sharp edge unless you counted the “double edge” safety razor blades. Those were the ones your grandfathers used when they switched from getting a shave with a straight razor to doing it themselves with that nifty little gadget that opened like a clam shell and hold the blade “safely” in place. The kind you see a certain pawn broker advertise on television if you stay up late enough and watch reruns of shows that were popular when safety razors were. But where was I? Oh right, old enough to remember when.

Do you remember when razors had just one blade? Whether in the venerable safety razor, the gadgety injection razor, or the brightly colored disposable razor, there was one blade to drag across your face, leg, or other hairy body part to transform it into a smooth, hairless body part. It worked just fine. Then someone decided if one is good, two must be better. TV ads were suddenly full of the new trend, the double blade disposable razor. The first blade shaves your beard close and the second shaves it even closer. Closer than close? Holy cow! That’s close! They even had animations of the first blade cleaning slicing off the hair and pulling it ever so carefully above the skin just in time for the second blade to swipe its way through. Yeah right.

The hairy public sought out this newest grooming marvel in droves. Shaver manufacturers hit gold. Then someone got the idea, if two are better, three must be better than better. To make a long story short, today you can wander into the personal grooming section of your local supermarket and pick up a razor with as many as six blades all bending, twisting, turning, and otherwise maneuvering their way around your face, leg, and other hairy body parts with or without lubricant, softeners, and/or moisturizer strips. And all for a whole lot of money, with or without coupons.

Oddly enough you can still buy double edge safety razor blades and injector blades. I have no idea if you can still buy the razors to go with them but if you can you can get a deal since these are usually less than a dollar a blade while the new-fangled multi-blade systems run as much as $6.00 per razor. Something you can’t get readily any more is a barbered straight razor shave. The shave and a haircut is a thing of the past, and where it still exists its way more than just two bits. But as indulgences go, it’s worth way more.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

A Hair Raising Thought

I was staring into the mirror the other day when a thought hit me. You know that I spent a couple of months in the hospital recently. I had so much blood thinner running through me that for several weeks no one dared approach me with a razor. I had gone in wearing a beard that already could have used a trim and it didn’t take much time for it to qualify as “bushy.” Not a bad look but not for me.

While I was wondering if I would ever get be groomed again I started wondering why hair seems to grow only above the neck.Or in my case, above the neck but below the scalp. Stay with me here.

I have to trim my beard at least once a week to keep the level of neatness that I like. (I don’t always make it but that’s what I strive for.) The parts of my face not covered in hair get shaved daily. The hair on my head, actually the ring of hair around my head seems to always need a haircut starting with the day after I get a haircut. And for some reason the left side of that ring grows faster than the right side. As I said, the parts above the neck are always growing hair.

The rest of the hair follicles across other body parts don’t seem to be as diligent about new growth. I have never, ever shaved my arms yet the amount of hair there has not changed since I was in high school. If I hadn’t cut the hair on my head since then I would be pushing it around in a wheelbarrow. Arms, legs, chest, underarms, and those private areas seem to have some auto-sensor about when to stop growing.

The hair at those places will grow if it has to. I have had areas shaved for medical procedures and everywhere that was done the hair ultimately returned to its pre-procedure length and then stopped. How does it know?

But back to that day that I was staring into the mirror. I definitely needed a beard trim but just wasn’t in the mood. Not a good enough reason to keep the trimmer in its holder. Facial hair just has no clue as to when to stop growing on its own.

That;s what I think. Really. How ’bout you?

A Little Off the Top

This weekend past was the NFL Week One weekend. It shouldn’t have been that big of a deal.  College football has been going on for a couple of weeks.  High school and midget or little league football might have been happening for close to a month in some places.  And even pro football hasn’t been unheard from with nationally televised pre-season games.  But this was the official week.  The week when football at all levels was played and the games counted.  And there must have been much concern over the summer months because the coaches are all bald.

On Sunday when they spend lots of time aiming the cameras at the coaches along the sidelines during the game that you care about and are watching and all the others that they show during the half-time and post-game reports during and after the game you care about, most of those coaches were hairless.  Ditto for the college coaches on Saturday.  Even on the Friday night local news and in the Saturday morning paper, many of the high school coaches that got some PR time showed off their newly shorn former locks.  Bald we tell you!  They are all bald!

They will say they are making a statement, showing off their toughness, deliberating declaring themselves to be the more testosterone laden version versus the one across the field on the opponents’ benches.  They are the cross between The Rock and Bruce Willis.  Hmmm, let’s look a little closer.

We think they are all shaving their heads because they want to mask their receding hairlines.  For many men, it’s not an easy thing to deal with.  It’s much easier to design a successful pass rush when you look as menacing as the rushers.  Half-time pep talks go over bigger when you just have to grunt and let the bad locker room lighting reflect the sheen from a recent shave.  But when everybody is doing it, it’s not so cool.

We’re estimating close to 75% of the coaches spotted on the sidelines displayed the all over haircut.  (Oddly, those coaches with hair seemed to be wearing hats.)  Where the threat (of whatever) showed when the shaved head was one in a hundred, at 100 out of 100 they are just all the same model.  It is sort of like when the coaches stopped wearing suits on the sidelines and went for golf shirts.  The first few added to their menace repertoire as everyone could see their muscles bulging against the stretchy fabric.  Now they just look ready to hit the late night appetizer specials at the tavern down the street.

So, is the shaved head going to be the new fashion statement for this year’s sideline strollers?  Perhaps.  It’s not necessarily a bad look.  It’s just that those who are sporting it should remember why they favor the clean crown.  And remember that cross between The Rock and Bruce Willis?  Do it enough times and somebody is going to end up looking like a cross between Mr. Clean and Humpty Dumpty.

Now that’s what we think. Really. How ‘bout you.

Hair Today, Gone Yesterday

All He wanted was a haircut.  It doesn’t matter if it’s a local shop, a national chain, or a guy/gal in his/her basement with a shampoo sink and a set of clippers.  Around here, a basic men’s haircut is $29.  To a woman, that’s probably a bargain.  To a man, that’s infuriating.

He of We is always infuriated that Daughter of He can find shoes on sale for $10 and that’s before the 50% off coupon from the Sunday paper and another 20% off with the friends and family discount card everybody gets when walking through the door.  His shoes?  On the clearance table after looking for a matching pair, $85.  But the $29 haircut is more infuriating.  Here’s why.

Every shop has a price list up on the wall.  Nobody has ever figured out why.  Men’s haircuts aren’t haute coiffure.  Your basic barber/stylist when confronted with a man’s head will snip, buzz, shave, whisk, say thank you, and collect the tip.  One thing on that price list is the senior citizen discount.  That runs the $29 basic cut down to about ten bucks or the price of women’s shoes on sale.  We suppose the logic is that an old guy has less hair than a young one.  Not so.  Both Sons of She have hairlines approaching that of Mr. Clean’s and neither is yet old enough to run for president.  By a lot.  Likewise, He’s hairline has been more easily measured from the back since he was in his 20’s.  The discount should go to the one who has less hair, not more years.

Another thing that is infuriating about the $29 basic cut is that He usually just gets his hair buzzed.  At his last sitting on a barber chair the “stylist” asked how he wanted it.  “Clippers please, number two.”  After asking if He realized how short that was he pointed to the little hair he had on his head.  “Anything longer than number 2 and you won’t be taking anything off.”  She agreed, took about 5 minutes to drape the drape over him, plop a set of cutters into a razor, and set them for the requested depth.  Then she took about 2 minutes cutting his hair then popped the blades off, undraped him, handed him a mirror (which after a lifetime of haircuts he still wasn’t sure why), and stood back waiting for a tip.

So this time when He needed a haircut he walked into the same shop, was greeted by the same “stylist,” asked for the clippers set at number two, acknowledged that he knew how short that was, and was digging out her tip 7 minutes after sitting in the chair.

For $29 you should get at least enough time to talk about last night’s game.

Now that’s what we think. Really. How ‘bout you.

The Real Reality Summer Wardrobe Rules for Real People

Summer is in full swing.  Hot, humid, sunny, temperatures in the mid 80’s to mid 90’s.  And people are taking full advantage of those summer rules – or disadvantage. 

We had the opportunity not long ago to attend an all day, outdoor music festival.  We were graced with a rather comfortable day.  In between days reaching into the upper 90’s and days of ponderous rains leading to flash floods, we managed to pick the one day of the three day festival to attend that had temperatures staying in the 70’s, no rain, dappled sunshine through broken clouds, and a very slight breeze.  The perfect day for outdoor festing.  Except for the other people there.

To be fair, not all of them detracted from an otherwise enjoyable afternoon and evening.  Just the ones who left their fashion sense at home.  After a day of watching what people consider appropriate public attire we are forced to invoke the Real Reality Wardrobe Rules.

 

For Men:

Sleeves are mandatory.  Not areas formerly occupied by sleeves, the entire sleeve.  They are the cross pieces that put the T in T-Shirt.  They are needed.  They are required. 

In that sleeves are mandatory, so are the shirts that they come on.  Nobody wants to see anybody other than a cute infant half naked in public.  Even in guys that haven’t traded in their six-pack for a quarter keg, the shirtless look just isn’t a good one other than at poolside or if necessary, in your own man cave.  We don’t expect women to wander about with their nipples exposed, men shouldn’t either.

Hair long enough to be in a ponytail on a male only looks good on a male pony.  And only at the tail.  You’re old.  You’re gray.  You’re bald.  Don’t add to the insanity by having hair halfway down your back and certainly not in braids!  Shave it off, put your shirt on, and move along. 

Flip flops are not shoes.  Leave them at the pool, with your shirt.  Mandals are fine, but like the rest of you, grooming is essential.  Just because your feet are the farthest away from your brain, don’t be brainless about your feet.  Well groomed, trimmed, washed, and buffed feet are also healthy feet.

 

For Women:

For different reasons, but the just as above, nobody wants to see you half naked in public.  Check your hems, watch your buttons.  Unintentional flashes of skin is sexy.   Intentional undressing is slutty.

Have someone check your behind from behind when you’re sitting down on the grass.  Just say no to crack. 

Swimsuits are for swimming, or for backyard tanning.  Would you go to a production of the local symphony wearing a tankini?  You’re outside, in public, whether at a concert or at the grocery store.  Grow up, wear clothes.  (If you’re having difficulty with that, see For Women, Rule #1.)

High Heels and soft grass do not mix. If you are at an outside wedding and you are dressed to the nines, you’ll have to move slowly and carefully.  Accidents can happen but they don’t have to.  If you are at an outdoor concert with 10,000 people in shorts and t-shirts, wear something lawn-appropriate.  Aerating the amphitheater grounds with your stilettos will not get you a discount to the next show.

Tattoos can be art.  If you have a back full of body art, ask somebody besides one of your friends to give you’re an opinion of the quality of the work.  If it’s art, flaunt it.  Go ahead and wear that backless sun dress.  If it’s of poor quality, badly composed and inexpertly executed, cover it up until you find a good artist to fix it.    

 

It’s hot out there.  You can be too.  Pay a little attention to the person in the mirror and watch how many pay attention to you on the outside.       

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?