Race Credit Karma: Brett's Blog

So, generally when I write a blog it feels right.  At some point in the week an idea comes to my head and I say to myself, “I need to blog about that.”  For whatever reason that did not happen this week.  It came close with my friend Nick who is recently engaged.  I thought about writing about how is life is over or how now he can’t seem to make the simplest decision without her (really?).  This was starting to happen anyway, slowly but surely losing his manhood to the point by now I believe his testicles are in a glass case over his fiancée’s fireplace mantle.  It is well-lit, with gold inlay, it’s tasteful and well done.  I thought the sign in bold neon letters under the glass case flashing “Property of Laura” was a bit much, but to each his own.  But then I thought giving a man a hard time for getting married was too cliché and I am better than that, so I am not going to write about my man, Nick.

Than I thought about going political.  Speaking about the craziness of people who want to change the 14th amendment, which I still believe is more about racism than an intelligent solution to the problems of immigration in this country.  Or how brilliant I think the “March to Keep Fear Alive” is and how I wish I could attend the event.  But, quite frankly, I am not in the mood for a serious political discourse.

Then I thought about going with another heart string tugger of parental wisdom.  On how my son actually wants to practice football with me ever since I decided to take it down a notch (see Sins of the Father).  I was going to speak of how as parents we would be more successful if we were willing to meet our kids where they are, rather than expect them to meet us where we are.  He is doing great in football by the way.  Improving every week and having fun playing the game.  But no, I am not going to talk more on that subject, it just doesn’t feel right.

Do I have writer’s block?  I don’t think so.  As you can see from the above subjects I have plenty to talk about, but I am not in the mood to talk about them.  So, what am I in the mood to talk about.  Hmmmmmm.  Fantasy football?  I should be talking about this, but I am not.  Maybe next week.  So, what will it be?

How about hair?  Yeah, that feels right.

That’s right, hair.

I find hair to be very fascinating.  I am not a hair stylist, but I do know good hair when I see it.  I love the saying “bad hair day” and I wish it was used more often.  I never use it, because I have no hair.  Well, I do have hair, but my hair does not want to grow on all parts of my head, especially the front part above the forehead.  My father has the sam balding pattern.  Who said balding skips a generation?  The funny thing is, I know exactly where it began.  In 1997 I took my oral exams for my PhD.  To commemorate the occasion, I shaved my head and cut my beard into a goatee.  I wanted to intimidate my doctoral committee as they had never seen me with this look.  I liked the look so much, I kept it for a year or two.  One day, I decided to let my hair grow back.  Not all of it did.  Uncool.  I have learned to live with it.  Now, I shave my head, but it is less by choice than not liking the huge bald spot.  You may not know the difference, but I do.

But the thing I find most fascinating about hair is how contextual it is.  What do I mean?  Whether hair is a good thing or bad thing all depends on context.  For example, It is OK to put your hands in someone’s hair.  If you are close, you can pet your friend’s hair.  Cutting someone’s hair is not a big deal, but as soon as the hair hits the floor, it is NOT to be touched with bare hands, unless it is your own hair.  On the head, clean.  Falling to the floor, garbage and unclean.  Many people put their own hair in their mouth, but you would never put someone else’s hair in your mouth.  It is just hair, but context changes everything.  Here is a list of the worse situations of context to find hair:

In your food.  Yuck, and the longer the worse it is, especially if you pull it from your mouth like a noodle.  Actually there is something that is worse …

A short hair in your food, and it is NOT straight.

Hair in the bathtub drain.  I hate this with a passion.

Hair on the shower wall.  This is especially true if it is a hotel shower.

Hair in any bed that is not your own.

Any hair that is growing in a place that it should not be growing: mole, feet (this one varies), the stray chin hair, the stray chest hair, and the ever popular nose and ear hair.

In general, hair on one’s chest is fine, but there is variation of opinions on this, but hair on the back is almost never acceptable.

And I will end with this very fascinating fact:  The acceptability of hair and its location changes dramatically during sex.  Many things change during sex, but this is a blog about hair.  So, if you have read this blog from beginning to end, I apologize.  It is five minutes of your life that you will never get back.  But, it still feels right and I wouldn’t want to write a blog that I couldn’t be proud of.

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When it comes to marriage, women and men are different.  They just are.  For example, a woman might have a special notebook of wedding ideas that she might have been accumulating since five.  Even the wedding itself is different.  At the wedding on the female side is joy, laughing, celebration, single bridesmaids wishing they were the bride.  On the man’s side: Groomsmen, “You say the word, and we will hop in my car right now and get away from here.  We could be in Vegas or an Arizona golf course in five hours, your choice.”  Groom, PAUSE … PAUSE … PAUSE  “No, I’m good.” … PAUSE … “Yeah, I’m good.  You’re a good friend.”  I’m just sayin …