While I’m fairly certain I already reserved my spot in Hell many years ago, today’s Craftastrophe post pretty much guarantees my VIP pass for an eternity of Rod Stewart concerts. Awesome.
I got a haircut, Interwebz. More on the actual cutting tomorrow, but first I need to get something off my (ridiculously well dressed) chest. Now that it’s behind me, I think I can talk about it. Hold me Interwebz, I’m scared. Here goes.
I had been watching a lot of American Idol (squeal!) over the past several weeks. I kept hoping that little Tim guy would get voted off because his presence made me twitchy. Every time he climbed on that stage and tossed his long, windswept bangs nonchalantly to the side I WANTED TO STAB HIM. I had been complaining about that hair of his for weeks and then suddenly…
It hit me.
Alright so I haven’t really mastered his terrified, dear-caught-in-headlights smile…and I’m a couple of decades older than he is…but the resemblance is creepy, no? (Also it really makes me want to get my teeth whitened.)
Foolishly, I looked to Rocco for advice. “Do you think I need a new hairstyle before I start going into the office?”
He looked at me sideways, “Are we calling that a style now?”
Later we watched an episode of SNL that we’d saved on the DVR. You know, the one with Tina Fey hosting. Any body remember the musical guest from that episode? Any idea where I might be going with this?
“Who is that kid?” Rocco asked during one particularly amusing skit, confused by the child singing in a classroom.
“Justin Bieber,” I answered, not taking my eyes of the screen.
“How do you know these things?” Rocco asked.
“He’s in the Bible all the time,” I responded, motioning towards the latest issue of Us Weekly.
“Ok, but who IS he? Why is he on here?” he persisted.
“He’s a tween heart throb singer type. He’s like a solo Jonas Brother.”
“Like a solo Hanson?”
“Ah, got it.” He seemed satisfied…until the musical number. “What’s with the hair?”
“I dunno. It’s his thing. Kinda distracting though, isn’t it?”
“It reminds me of someone,” he hinted, pointedly.
“Oh it is kinda like Jess’s ‘do!” I swerved, dodging reality.
“Yeah. That’s what I meant,” Rocco graciously followed my lead.
So yeah. I got a hair cut. The good news? I no longer have the hair of a fifteen year old boy. Bad news? I still have the same emotional depth and sense of humor of a fifteen year old boy. Which reminds me…
You should really see these. Be warned, the link probably qualifies as NSFW. So don’t click it while your boss is in your cube, but you should definitely circle back after hours to see those things. Even Rocco spent at least five minutes analyzing these…let’s call them costumes.