Thursday, October 21, 2004

About Abject Poverty

Bus 174 UPDATE: Boy was I wrong about that one! You think by watching the first half of a documentary you know what it's about, but nothing could have prepared me for the joy and happy fun times of the second half. Ha ha ha. When that poor hijacker got himself caught in a death trap after a miserable life of abject poverty, I thought "this is a bummer". Well, thanks, second half, for the dancing and the music, but most importantly, the good times.

Good times.

After getting my haircut yesterday, Cookie, my hairdresser, talked me into buying this "dressing," that is the word she used, that is normally used on black people's hair. I wasn't sure this morning if it should be applied dry or wet, so I looked at the instructions, and it helpfully informed me "apply to hair as needed". But the best part was that this stuff smells exactly like the first bottle of mousse I ever got back in Junior High. I wasn't really sure what you were supposed to do with mousse because I'd never used any before, but I knew that the ultimate goal was to make your hair not move ever, so I just put a shit-load in and slicked my hair back. Ha ha ha ha ha ha. I wish I had a fucking picture of that day. (In a special outreach moment towards my less self-assured readers, please know that for as much as I make fun of you, I am only lashing out because of my own insecurities. That's not really true, but I did look like a fucking tool back in Junior High, kind of like how you look like a fucking tool now.) I have this very vivid memory of standing outside after lunch and someone saying, "Future-Worker #3116, what did you do to your hair?" and I responded, "It's mousse, man. I got some mousse in it today." God. If I could, I would kick my own ass.

One day I'll have to tell you about my first pair of Skidz, or my treasured "Homie the Pig" sweatshirt.

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