The Confessions of a Bald Man

It happened close to 2 years ago, summer of 2004... Hair clippers in hand? Check. An electrical outlet? Check. Enough Intestinal fortitude? Check. One receding hairline? Check. Mother Nature laughing in the wings? Check. Wife's approval? Check. One last look in the mirror? Check. I flicked the switch and there I went! OFF TO THE RACES!!!! I started with my right sideburn. In one swoop, it was gone. I grew that sideburn way back in the early 90's when 90210 was in its heyday and Luke Perry made it cool for a clean cut guy like me to look a little edgy. Heck, I landed a wife wearing them. Thanks, Luke. As I looked in the mirror, my heart began to race because I was *gasp* really going to go through with it! I'd say it has been one of the bravest things I've ever done. I took the buzzing beast and plunged it into the right side of my head. No turning back now. One dark lock after another fell into the sink. My is mind yelling "What are you freaking doing, Dave?!" above the rumble of the clippers against my scalp. After 3 minutes of me doing the zig-zag clipper waltz across my head, I finished the act by running them straight across the very top of it. I had hair for 33 years. I've had baby hair, bowl cut hair, spikey hair, conservative hair, mullet hair, business hair, Caesar hair...less Caesar hair. Now, no hair. I looked in the mirror at this mass of skin where my precious folicled friends once lived. The only hint of hair I now saw in my mirrored reflection were a set of frowning eyebrows hosting a pair of eyes frozen in disbelief at such an epidermical sight! I opened the bathroom door and walked into the room where Sarah was. I sheepishly poked my bald head into the room. Sarah's face looked like she had just seen someone's zipper down. That "ohmigosh" half smiling-half "oh crap" look. Now panicked, I said, "What the heck am I supposed to do now?" She quickly followed up with, "Honey, it looks good. Really." Thanks, Honey. I've since settled into my new and permanent look. I've befriended a Mach3 Razor and will live the rest of my days...a bald dude. I now look at those like Andre Agassi, Vin Diesel, Bruce Willis, Montel Williams, and virtually every player in the NBA, who have all gone before me in baldom, with the spirit of misery loving company. A band of bald brothers. A growing sea of cueballs. A tribe of those whose hands were forced prematurely to the razor by Mother Nature. So, fast forward to America's favorite game show and talent show: "Deal or No Deal" and "American Idol 2006". What used to be a little edgy in 2003 has now entered into the mainstream pop culture: The Shaved Head. Anyone under 30 gives me the "Hey, you look like the guy from 'American Idol'. You, know...the bald one." I suppose it's still better than being compared to Bucky. Anyone over 30 gives me the "Hey Dave, you look like Howie Mandell from 'Deal or No Deal'". Howie freakin' Mandell? Great! So, now I'm associated with a guy who inflates surgical gloves with his nose? Can someone give me a break? No one ever gave that lollypop suckin' Kojack any grief! Remember back in the day when all the ladies would swoon over a bald Broadway guy named Yul? Yul. What kind of name is that anyway? But no, I don't get the "bald is beautiful" comments. When I'm not getting the "Do you use Turtle Wax on your head?" jokes, I get Howie freakin' Mandell. Quick question: How many of you reading this thought, at first, that the picture at the top of this blog post was me? See what I mean? Howie freakin' Mandell. Anyone got the number to Hair Club for Men?

One Big Mouth and a Malnourished Laptop

I finally got my laptop back! I'm here at the Boerne Daily Grind re-downloading all the stuff that I completely lost when my hard drive went south close to a month ago. I literally lost everything I had from this past year. It's my dumb fault for not backing up my files but I didn't think about it. I'm thinking about it now but that doesn't seem to be helping me out. It's kinda like a....hold on... This guy who was eating here with his rich friends a couple of tables away was just now leaving out the front door...and he feels the need to say to me *very loudly* "Hey...get off the porn site". What? Is he really talking to me? Do I know you? Oh geeze. Thanks alot. Was that a sad attempt to be funny or look cool? I just kinda looked at him like he had just thrown up on my left shoe. Here I am buried behind my laptop, typing in my little blog, minding my own business and now the whole freaking restaurant is turning around to see who the "perv" is behind his laptop looking at uncovered curves. You all are my witnesses. My activities are all above the Equator. What a jerk. Anyway... Losing all my files, documents, pictures, songs, programs, and probably 10 other things I don't even realize I lost is like having a virtual house fire. So, I'm going through the arduous task of re-downloading fonts, programs, and other junk. Get off the porn site. To quote a wise sage: "The Jerk Store called and they ran out of you."-George Costanza Take that!