Because it’s that time of the year when the shadow of my head looks like a weird, alien mobius chair from the huge crop of hair I am always too lazy to cut. See my twenty other old blog entries on the topic, and see how I’ve failed to grow out of this problem, this constant annoyance at having to cut my hair. Constant annoyances and failures to grow out of specific problems are fun, if only because they let you regurgitate old blog entries and brandish them with new, annoying whines.
In my laziness to go to the barbershop I always end up applying a disgusting amount of gel to make my hair seem shorter, and when I went home for the weekend five days ago what should I see in our bathroom but my brother’s hair wax. I haven’t tried using wax before, but if the promise of the label is true that it would enable me to mold my hair into any shape I want then it would help me flatten my hair into a short-looking turd. So I swathed my hair with a huge amount of the wax and was amazed at how, indeed, I could shape my hair into a pear or a galleon.
Ecstasy followed, until I had to wash it off. No amount of shampooing could get the fucking wax off. It has now been five days since I’ve used the damn thing, I have never re-applied it, I have taken a bath multitude times since then, and I can still shape my hair into a fucking anvil.
I should have learned from past experiences that these weird grooming thingies of my siblings that just magically appear in our bathroom are booby traps. I’ve once seen a pink liquid soap in the bathroom called Dance, Dance, Dance, and it gave me major allergies. I’ve once seen some blueberry with milk and grains whatever body soap and it caused major exfoliative dermatitis. Yes, my brother and my sister are out to kill me.