Goddamn hair


Yes, I blew NaBloPoMo. I failed at my own thing! For the first time in what, five years? I haven't posted every day in November, and you know what? Oh, well. C'est la guerre. This weekend at Camp Mighty was not a time for withdrawing to my room and ruminating on lessons learned, it was a time best spent fetching cocktail napkins for Alice to cry into and drinking margaritas while talking to Heather about the election. And also doing this:

I have never before in my life put on a wig and shiny green pants to go to a party, I don't know what's happening to me. If this is how a mid-life crisis escalates, brace yourselves; it could happen to you, too.

Also, I stopped posting because I stopped drawing every day, and now I'm horribly behind. This next drawing comes at the request of someone who wanted an elephant.

It is so much more than just an elephant, it is a baby elephant hiding in a bush while its mother looks in the other direction, with Mt. Kilimanjaro in the background. How about them apples? I have no idea if they have bushes like that on the road to Kilimanjaro or if elephants even roam in the area, and frankly I was tempted to pull a Little Prince and draw an elephant inside a snake that looks like a hat, but that would be plagiarism and I'm not interested in being so unoriginal. Awkward, yes. Illogical, of course. But by God at least I'm making my own awkward, illogical drawings.

Growth is painful

Yeah, I cut my hair again. (Did you really think I wouldn't?) I may have to finally admit that long hair is for those who have long-hair lifestyles and long-hair self images. People who are able to ignore the pain and frustration of hair blowing into their face/eyes; who are not irritated as fuck when their hair gets tangled in their bag strap or zipped into a dress. These are the blessed, for whom being romantic and windswept looks natural, instead of laughable.

Unfortunately, my son is in the thick of his need for me to look "like other moms," for which this hair cut does not qualify. The only other short-hair mom at his school moved back to the Netherlands (so now I'm the tallest mom, too! The obviousness of my sticking-outedness is mythological in scope. Grrr, Mrs. Kennedy SMASH!). Last night, after I came home from work and he saw what I'd done to myself, he stopped just short of begging me to wear a hat. But this is a child who also thinks I should drive a Mustang, wear knee-high boots, and take him to Disneyland for a week. I don't really understand how any of that will help me blend in.

(Video made using Everyday.)

Allow me to demonstrate

Okay, so I guess this is the second fascinating question that I'll put in my nonexistent FAQ:

How in God's name do you cut your own hair?

Answer: It's easy! Especially if you don't care if it looks like shit you're not particularly fastidious and have a good hat to wear if you accidentally make a bald spot.

Step One


Wake up and have your husband tell you your head looks like a duck's ass.

Step Two


Retort smartly, "Oh, if only my head could look more like a duck's ass."

Step Three


Rusty scissors? Check.

Step Four


Take off the sweater that earlier in the day your husband mimed unzipping, removing from your shoulders, balling up, and throwing in the garbage. Also remove fabulous glasses. We're flying blind now, baby!

Step Five


Now, was that so hard?

Step Six


Grab a hunk off the back and try not to lop off your thumb.

Step Seven


I have no idea what I'm doing.

Step Eight


La la la. Ooh! I have a hairy monkey neck.

Step Nine


And now I will do this interpretive dance to express how I feel about home haircuts.

Step Ten


Yeah, I know what you're thinking: This is supposed to be an improvement?

Step Eleven


Voilà! A Braun clipper with a dead battery.

Step Twelve


Don't have a fucking clue what's going on back there.

Step Thirteen


Maybe this dirty old Aveda compact will assist in making the cords in my neck stand out just that much more.

Step Fourteen


A shower has rinsed away all the tiny little itchy hairs that get stuck in your bra and drive you MAD.

Step Fifteen


Believe me, if you're looking for some shit to paste into your hair that will make you smell like a piña colada, look no further.

Step Sixteen


A vigorous scalp massage increases blood flow to the follicles, which allows the piña colada mix to reach deep down into your brain, thus creating A Tasty Zombie Treat™!

Step Seventeen


I had to brighten the hell out of this photo just so you could see what's going on with that paste stuff. Shit is miraculous.

Step Eighteen


The transformation back to pinhead is complete!