I know the title is misleading, probably causing many of you to think that I have either cut my tangled mane or I'm on the fast track to doing so, that's not actually the case. See each year, as my hair gets longer and I have to adjust more of it so I can wipe my ass without any "follicle interruptions", I go through a phase where I tell myself that I'm going to cut my hair. Each year I go through the same thing, like I'm stuck in a ghetto version of "Groundhog Day" or some shit, stressing myself out at the specif task at hand so much that I make a "Pros" and "Cons" list just so I can understand the reality of chopping off a piece of me that has been around for the past 12 years. So, kind people who read my brand of bullshit on a daily basis, here is a look at a list that I pretty much make ever year, welcome to the neurosis of Humanity F. Critic.
No more flipping my hair like a girl: Even though I do "man things" like frequenting strip clubs, taking shots of liquor out of the navel of intoxicated women pre-coitus, and playing a weekly game of football with the fellas where I usually average a fight a week, there are a few things that threaten my hetero street cred. Besides me being a Independent movie lover, and a fan of "One Life to Live" to the point that a couple of days ago I screamed out like a 10 year old girl "They Can't Kill Todd!!", there is one thing that sticks out most of all. That thing, Ladies and Gents, is the way I rotate my neck and flip my hair out of my face like I was Farrah fucking Facet on an episode of "Charlies Angels". I don't even realize that I'm doing it until I see the "that was so gay" look on the faces of my friends, and the "I'm certainly not fucking you now" face that women who I was trying to know "biblically" flash me. Cutting my hair would definitely solve this problem, because if it didin't then I have more fucking problems than I thought I had.
It opens up fight possibilities: Listen, I know that I am 32 year old and the only things I need to be fighting is High Blood pressure and my deviant pornography addiction, but cutting my hair does open up a whole new world in the art of old fashion fisticuffs. Let me explain: Even though I have been in more scuffles than I care to mention, and have had no problem dispatching some ass-hat even with my hair blowing in the wind, there has been a few times I have had second thoughts about getting into it with someone because of the fear of having my hair pulled if the guy in question subscribes to the fighting tactic of 14 year old girls. Because of my fear of having my hair pulled, I have had to result in the quickest and most efficient forms of punishment, that is where the throat-chop came from. If not the throat-chop, I would break a bottle of beer over someones head to lessen the chance of having my mane yanked out of it's socket. If I cut my hair I'm not saying I'm going to fight, but the fucking possibilities are endless.
People will stop asking me for weed: I like weed like the next guy, smoked some out of a Mcguyver-like Pepsi-can once that a friend turned into a make-shift bong, got so high with a high school classmate and her mother once that the mom let me feel her tits for the sake of "believability" because of a recent boob job she had gotten, when it comes to the topic of Cannabis I usually have no proboem whatsoever. OK, that's a lie, when people assume that I have weed on me because the texture of my hair, that can be infuriating to say the least. The fucked up part is that even after I nicely say "No, I don't have any weed.", they think that I'm lying and for the next few minutes they assure me that they are "not cops" and how much do I charge for an "ounce". Trust me, if I had a dollar for everytime someone thought I was the local weed supplier, well, I guess I would just spend that money on weed and whores I guess.
No more silly fucking questions or statements: Some people, bless their little hearts, just don't know anything about dreadlocks, so if I am in a decent enough mood I will answer their questions, no problems. But after eleven years of answering the same questions year end and year out, I understand how an actor feels who is promoting a movie and is forced to go to one of those movie junkets where they go through like 100 interviews a day. Common questions include, "How long have you been growing your hair?" and "How often do you get it done?", not the worst questions in the world. Silly statements include, "Your hair smells nice, wow!" and "Your hair looks good to be dreadlocks!!", which I usually accompany with a frustrated sigh or a quick retort explaining their ignorance. Then you have the utter bullshit questions like, "Is that a weave??", "Do you wash your hair?", or "Can I have a lock of your hair?", what the fuck?
No more sitting under a dryer: Ladies, I feel your pain. OK, I can't give birth, I don't have a monthly cycle, and never had to be penetrated anally by guys like me as I inappropriately scream out my prison number while I ejaculate. But, by me having this chick that I know twist my locks once a month, I know how it feels to sit under a fucking dryer for far too long. That thing is horrible, sweating my balls off as I try to read issues of "O" Magazine, trying not to think about the pounds that are falling off my body because of the massive heat scorching my scalp. Right when I think that my hair is dry enough, after being under that hair care product of death to the point that the fluid surrounding my brain is boiling, she comes by and when I think she is going to release me from this indoor version of hell she says, "You need to be under there for another half hour!!" Fuck!! I can't tell you how many times I have walked out of there with a damp head, like a pouting 5 year old saying, "Fuck that, I'll take my chances."
Positive Attention: Despite all the negative attention that I received, having my hair pulled and the arsenal of silly as fuck questions that are thrown my way, there is positive attention that I would miss if I were to cut my hair. For example, and ladies I'm sorry because I'm going to sound like a pig, but do you know the amounts of miscellaneous ass I've received based on a woman coming up to me and saying, "Oh, I really love your hair!!" Especially coffee-shop chicks, who's favorite pastime includes watching "Love Jones" on a eternal loop, burning incense, and living their life like it is a full time India. Arie music video, when they talk about wanting to wash my hair and play in my dreadlocks I know that I have found another future victim of the Humanity F Critic "pre-ejaculate and say it's her fault" mannuever. But yeah, I feel I'm an average looking guy, but my hair has sparked the interest of older possible sugar mama's, younger "I'll forgive you for not knowing who Afrika Bambaataa is as long as I can drunkenly penetrate you a few more times" women, and bitter ass broads my age of the "yeah, you confirmed that men ain't shit so now I'm going to be a lesbian" variety.
The weed possibilities: Even though I waxed poetic about how it was unfortunate, due to the style of my hair, that people assumed me for a Cannabis salesman. That being said, because of my hair I am alerted of every dealer within a 10 miles radius of my residence. In bars, having conversations with strangers, people will try to bond with me in a "you have dreadlocks so you must smoke weed, here is the number to my dealer" kind of way. It's definitely a perk, but I always think that if I was a Narc I would be like cop of the year and shit, based on how many drug busts a motherfucker could make.
Yes, I know the Pros outweigh the Cons, but I'm still not going to cut my hair. Why you ask? Because I'm a whore for compliments and discount marijuana, that's why. Duh!!