For several hours I walked around the mall and did a few other errands with this skeezy Joe Dirt floopy mullet thing goin on before I came back to have it finished, getting a cut more fitting of a gentleman of my stature…

The above picture is cute and silly, but look at the difference an expression change and glasses addition makes to the douche-factor…

Even without the glasses, I was experimenting on how douchie I could make it look…

The real money shot is the side view though… the horrific horrific side.view…

There were dozens of onlookers. some pointed, at least one even tried to take a picture with their phone as i walked by. eventually i had to start telling store clerks that “this is a joke, by the way” [pointing to my hair] cuz i just couldn’t take the silent judgment anymore.

Still more experimenting -
What a difference a comb makes:

In the first one I’m a creepy redneck rapist in the bayou but in the second i’m just your average Malibu preppy pretty boy rapist.
Interesting how you can deceive with hair swoops.

i dont even know what to do with it at this point. it controls me more than i control it.

Lauren suggests it get slicked back. I need to get some product to accomplish such a feat but

UPDATE: we’re gonna try this slicked back thing. (picture taken cuz i checked my facebook before going to bed and had a comment positively reviewing my Twister jammies, which i happen to be wearing, so i posted this on the commenters wall and am now sharing with you)

I scheduled a dentist appointment for 10AM and another at 1PM so I was in the chair being worked on all day (fillings + fixing botched root canal from last year) and it wasn’t nearly as bad an experience as I was prepared for. The inability to navigate between talk radio podcasts since I couldn’t look at my god damn iPhone screen however was worse than I was prepared for.

I only have brief moments where I am able to hold the device above my head and see wtf I’m doing, so in between those opportunities I try to mind-map where the hell I’m going on screen.

First double punch the home button to activate the screen. check.
Slide to unlock. check.
Follow home button quarter of an inch north for iPod button. WRONG. you just pressed the phone button.
Press middle of the screen to open what you think is podcast show list but since you’re really in the phone section of the device is actually your address book. check.
Press what you think is a podcast and listen at 2x speed for 18 minutes and then repeat. Hear ringing sound and realize what happened. dammit. Hear female voice say “hello?”. FUCK. you just called Lauren. Quick quick – find the cancel button – go go COME ON GOD DAMMIT! – no, thats no -yes, THERE – CANCEL. whew… repeat process. succeed. forget that you hate your iPhone. check.

Huh? sounds like there’s a story behind that. WELL, since you asked:

BuddyMcpal Lauren and I were fitzin around Malibu (I was gonna say “f*ckin around” but she’s got a new bf I approve of and I don’t wanna make him feel threatened by my awesomeness any more than is inevitable by using slang that could have shlexual connotations) and shortly after poking dead bird carcasses with sticks on the beach, we start walking back to the car across the street. After I complained about the wasted marsh land we were walking over that could be easily turned into beautiful usable area for both wildlife and humans with just a million or two worth of pumps and properly placed cement, she made a provocative comment on my psyche. Unpromted (or maybe segwaying from the marshland thing? who knows) she tells me that I remind her of one of the guys in I hope they serve beer in Hell, who hates all women now because one burned him back in the day so now he’s afraid of relationships…

Well, I’ve been burned by a whole buncha dirty soulless whores (not just one) and I am unaware of any lasting relationship scarring. So when I ask for further insight behind this diagnosis, she instead branches off into a flurry of other problems I allegedly suffer from, including that I’m not happy because I lack “companionship”, which every human wants. Dang Gina….

My favorite was her opinion that I sabotage relationships cuz I’m “afraid of being happy”. Really? which is more condescending? Me thinking in my head that “oh, thats adorable that you saw Dr Phil tell someone that and you’re eager to apply it to someone in real life”? or her saying out loud “ya, you force yourself to be unhappy cuz you’re a weak and fragile little bitch”?

Like any comedian, of course I have a miserable-existence-hate everything side to balance out the clown you all like to laugh at (duh. that’s what makes us funny), but tying anything to some kind of book club theory on commitment issues? Really y’all?

I wish I had more material to continue a “can you believe this ju guyz??” shtick, but unfortunately no further details could be pryed out of the Compass safe because she refused to elaborate on any of these deep physiological profiles saying that she “doesn’t care” about it enough to actually talk about it when I asked what was up with that.

UPDATE: Everything you know is wrong. My life is a cruel ocean of lies whose tide is always ri— ok, no, but really: like my life, this blog has become inaccurate and irrelevant, cuz I just spent about 3 1/2 months on the phone with Lauren hashing this thing out to Hades cuz she was all like “wtf?” and I was all like “wtf ur face?” and she was like “you wanna fight about it?” and i was like “not really, but bring it” and she was like “its been BROUGHT on your gay ass blog, n*gger” and I was like — wait no, it wasn’t like that. She was just annoyed that I was teasing her for teasing me because she didn’t think her accusations or unwilliness to elaborate on them were mean enough to be mocked, and I’m cool with that, cuz I believe her that she wasn’t trying to be a snot in the first place.

See, I wrote this post as “hey internetz, en it silliez how this dern dopey female thinks I’m all skrewed ups? lulz reight??” and she read it as “hey everyone. I hate Lauren…. f*cking… hate her….. *scratches nose*….. myea” – which normally, I’d be all “chill the eff out slayer”, cuz I took your thumbs-down commentary about me and grinded them into a delightful but casual happy meal burger for the mind that everyone now can enjoy, so whats the beef bitch? Except, those types of blogs are only fun when the person was actually intending to be a bitch or at least being a careless dope. but good news is that she was actually offended by that suggestion, so that’s cool that she cares, and also less cool that I teased back. As Johnny Cochran said: “If there ain’t intent. you caint dissent”. or something. So my “hey, guess what, I get to have fun at your expense on the internetz” rule only applies when the target files under the triple A’s of obnoxiousness: aware, affirmed and apathetic. Turns out her beachside slight was more of a casual “who the eff knows whats wrong with you…maybe this?” and not so much the “you’re these crappy things. you know it. so shut up cuz I aint takin questions, you woman hating pigdog”.

I hate to sully a good bashblog with late breaking factual updates, but accuracy turns me on.
I regret the error.

Mah gurl LoCump (Lauren Compass), mainly uses the appeal to authority, delivered with a heavy dose of sarcasm, the nutmeg of language (cuz a little is tasty, too much will make you puke, and an injection of it will kill you). She uses this awesome trick of accusing you of something and then accusing you of weaseling out of it if you say literally anything in response. So it would be like:

Lauren: you’re addicted to prescription pain pills
You: what? no I’m not
Lauren: oooh, now you’re gonna try to go back on it
You: go back on what? I’ve never even had a—
Lauren: < oooh, oookay /sarcasm>

It’s quite clever cuz it rejects your premise before you’ve even stated it – an effort achieved by preemptively dismissing your response on the basis that her original claim is such an obvious empirical fact that if you’re going to try to challenge it, then clearly whatever you’re about to say is going to be retarded.