Monday, March 06, 2006

Trapped in Purgatory

Some people have wondered if I'm offended by certain High Profile bloggers re-naming this space The Divorcinarium (or something like that), and of course my answer is, "Hell no!" Those two degenerates have done more for me in the past few weeks (and well before that) than anyone ever needs to know about and Jesus H. if I can't laugh about all of this now and in the future, then I truly am screwed.

That said, I feel like I'm turning into That Guy, the one who causes people to U-turn so they they don't have to hear him talk about his fucking divorce--or any singular topic--any more. Pick a new arena jackass! So, while my current thought filter is still set to Mind-Numbingly Repetitive, I'm going to try to break through that wall here in the next few weeks. I'm back to reading, able to get through a paragraph without my mind seizing control away from the page. And I'm itching to write some non-blog items, too.

My first idea was to live blog my haircut yesterday. Not the greatest idea I've ever had, but there is no catch and release in Idea Land right now. I need them all. Regular visitors are well aware of the unhealthy preoccupation I have with my locks. I don't know where it all began. I know I always wished I had straight, thin hair, as opposed the coarse waviness I have to wrestle with each morning. I remember not being able to pull off a proper mullet back in the early-to-mid '80s (of course, us soccer players called it a "bi-level") because my hair grows outward much more than downward. I'd come off the pitch resembling Artis Gilmore in his heyday rather than the desired MacGyver look.

I always liked having long hair. Problem is, I'm the only one. For much of the early 90s, I went dateless thanks to an ill-conceived 'do I felt was a necessary accessory to my rock star lifestyle. Yes, I was in a band, but my hair was so bad, I couldn't even get laid. Guys with infected sores on their face were doing better than I with the ladies. I finally cut it all off one December and, I kid you not, was touching--for free--a real live naked lady less than a week later.

I read somewhere, Metrosexual Weekly perhaps, that long hair was back in, so I'd been growing it for about 18 months. Twice in that span, I took a bad haircut beat, forcing me to nearly start over. I finally found a stylist who kinda knew what she was doing, though, and in the past 6 months, I've been pretty pleased with the results.

Of course, now THIS whole thing came up and not only does the long hair prevent any chance with the ladies (my theory is this, that the girls who go for long hair are looking for "bad boy" types and I couldn't be less of a bad boy than if my name were Clay Aiken), but it also makes me look older. With the Big Four-Oh less than 16 months away, I could use some youthfulness.

So, hair all gone. It's VERY short right now, too short, but that was necessary since it has to be re-trained. It almost comes to a point on the top of my head and that, mixed with my oval face, could lead a mildly drunk person to conclude I'm a character out of the Far Side comic. So I'll be staying indoors mostly for a fortnight. I'm also considering coloring it since there are a lot more gray hairs down at the foundation than I remember. It's not really vanity. Gray hair is kinda cool. Just not yet. Not now.

I took before and after pictures, but can't post them, as I look terrible. Man, oh man. Six weeks of strain clearly etched on my mug. Not pretty. I've also lost 15 pounds, which is not recommended for someone already as thin as I. AJ's been playing my ribs like a xylophone. I look like Coco after a 30-day Turkish prison stint.

Now really, isn't 1000 words about my hair better than that other drivel?


AJ and I toured a couple of apartments yesterday. The first was X's. After my haircut just down the street from her work, I called to see if we could stop by. When she said she'd show me the apartment, I thought she meant their models. She actually meant HER apartment, the one she'll be moving into shortly. That put me on tilt. It was so depressing. Nothing against the apartment itself, but going from 3000 square feet of bright, hardwoody goodness to three rooms with institutional brown carpet and crappy cabinetry is not the sort of housing move I embrace at this point of my life. Our master fucking bedroom is 3/4 as big as these apartments. Sigh.

I wasn't too impressed with her new digs and after lunch, AJ and I went looking elsewhere. The company my wife works for is a major developer and they own a dozen luxury apartment complexes in the area. I don't think I want to live in one of theirs. Partly because I have an ethical animosity toward a company which allows its married employees to sleep with random douchebag residents. Also, I know a lot of her co-workers at various properties and don't want to have to bump into them on a regular basis. I figure I'll get the "Oh, here comes that sad sack who's wife cheated on him" Face more often than I'll get the "Gee, I wonder if he's turned off the fasten seat belt sign and we can now freely move about his underpants" Face.

So AJ and I went to a competing property and I really liked it. The sales girl was a total idiot who acted like we were bothering her, but the apartment itself was very nice, very modern, with walls that weren't white, crown moldings, upgraded counter tops and a floorplan that showed some imagination beyond the typical box-like layout. It's within my price range and is currently at the top of my list, though they don't have any units coming available until June. Might work, might not.


For about 24 hours there on Friday-Saturday, X was relegated to minor status on the Problem Scale. My grandmother suffered a major stroke on Friday morning and we weren't sure she was gonna make it. Strong lady, though. She's since made great strides, can talk, is alert and recognizes everyone. She's paralyzed on her right side, but the doctor feels pretty strongly that physical therapy will lessen the effects and she'll be able to get around in a reasonable time frame.

If I could get you guys to sign an online petition to go back and start 2006 all over again, you think we could get enough signatures?


At 2:26 PM, Blogger Joaquin "The Rooster" Ochoa said...

I wouldn't sign it my friend. This is going to make you one tough son-of-a-gun then you might get that bad boy image you speak of.

At 2:28 PM, Blogger Joaquin "The Rooster" Ochoa said...

Oh, and I send my best wishes to your grandmother.

At 2:46 PM, Blogger Wwonka said...

Best wishes to your Grandmother and Please hang in there it will get better.

At 3:04 PM, Anonymous doogman said...

I'm not signing either, for the same reason as 'el gallo'.

And, my prayers are with your grandmother as well.

At 4:05 PM, Blogger Huge Junk said...

I'd sign your petition but I've stopped signing things because I think I'm getting carpal tunnel. I can't have writing weakening my wrist and getting in the way of masturbation any longer.

That's Level 11 planning.

At 4:41 PM, Blogger TripJax said...

MeanGene wrote a haircut post a while back and you've continued in stride. Nice job.

Oh, and get an apartment with no carpet much better...

At 4:43 PM, Blogger StB said...

Man, haven't you had enough beats this year?

Best wishes to the G-Ma.

At 6:40 PM, Blogger Kel said...

The best thing about the future is that it only comes one day at a time.

— Abraham Lincoln

At 7:26 PM, Blogger Dr. Pauly said...

Sell your locks on ebay and use it to send AJ to college.

At 7:56 PM, Blogger Gene said...

"I know I always wished I had straight, thin hair"

No, no, no you don't! I have straight, thin hair. It has haunted me every days since my balls dropped. Right now I'm looking in vain for a stylist, barber, or witch doctor who can get my pelt into a shape that won't frighten children in the street. It's thick, limp, ornery, and generates enough static to deliver punishing shocks every time I try to open a door.

I hope your grandmother continues to improve. And of course I feel your pain all too acutely concerning your divorce. But, dude, don't go looking for trouble and wish for straight, fine hair. Its more than one man can bear.

At 8:33 PM, Anonymous Jen said...

I'm so glad to here your grandmother is improving; she's in my thoughts. But c'mon, let's see the pictures. :)

At 8:51 PM, Blogger Roman said...

Speaker's granny > Kirby Puckett.

At 9:04 PM, Anonymous VS said...

McManaman's do is tough, the flowing locks, the grace...

and AJ's still a Gunner!

Hope all is well with your grandmother, I love ya man

At 9:13 PM, Blogger StudioGlyphic said...

Mebbe you should look at some places about 60 miles west of where you are.

At 7:13 AM, Blogger Falstaff said...

What's that website where we can start petitions? I'm totally signing.

And Gene's right - I used to have long, thin straight hair. I looked like the lost Allman Brother. It's just not worth it, I promise.

Keep us posted on Grams. All my best.

At 7:38 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

any post titled with a Slayer quote has got to be a good read. Hoping grams the best.

At 8:02 AM, Blogger Drizztdj said...

I'd love to have that $1K back in my poker bankroll from the beginning of the year.

I'll sign but the baby still needs to come out next month not in 4.

At 11:01 AM, Blogger iamhoff said...

Best wishes to your grandmother. Sounds like she might come thru it ok. Good vibes man, good vibes. As always, the broggers got yer back.


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