Friday, February 23, 2007


It should have come as no surprise to me that when Brittany Spears shaved her head the entire country called out for "Rehab!"

But it did.


For a Hair Error?

As a nation we haven't the resources to deal with the magnitude of such indiscretions!

And so I did the only thing I could do.

I shoved the box of hair dye deeper into the trash bin, Clorox sprayed the splatter from the shower curtain (tub, walls, floor, mirror, Dog, slippers, photo of Johnny Depp, toilet seat and both feet-up to my ankles) and figured if I was real quiet no one would notice all that much.

Boy, was I wrong.

Ok. In my defense I'm starting a superhero show next week. I thought it would be fun. And appropriate. And appropriately fun. Also, if you must know, the pretty girl on the box (who had been relegated to a lower shelf for the past six months) started making hopeful come-hither gestures to me whenever I opened the linen closet.

Well, that and the Sangria kicked in.
And....and....ok, fine you big nosy......I sort of like this geeky guy who's never ever going to notice I'm alive (and will hopefully never read this blog, either......) but I have it on good authority that geeky guys like red hair.
So, yeah, it's red.

Comic book red.

Leave Peter Parker dangling open mouthed from a wad of Silly String red.

Crayola Crayon has yet to come up with a name for this red red.


Ok, I thought as I discarded six towels, my toothbrush and stabbed the eyes out of the pretty girl on the box for good measure, I can live with this.

And I did. All weekend long.

Unfortunately, I eventually had to leave my house.

I decided to take the dignified approach: Pretend I Didn't Do It.

Three minutes into the parking lot at work I abandoned that plan in favor of the infinitely more creative: Grade People on Their (ahem) Witty Comments.

The following are real and actual comments made to me on my first day out of the house as a red head and my (mostly) imagined responses:

1. "Is that a wig?"

D- Too boring to merit an answer.

2. "What happened to your hair?"

D- Me: "I had beets for supper last night. Who knew?"

3. "What did you DO?"

D Me: "Well, I was taken by a cult and this is what they made me do. When they saw it
they let me go."

4. "Your hair is pretty."

Me: "Thank you."

Did you MEAN for it to come out that color?

B+ I liked that one. Complimentary yet with subtle undertones of sarcasm.

5. "Is that part of a costume?"

C Me: "Damn. Now I've got to pay the overdue charges at the Rent-a-Hooker Wig & Bait

6. "I like (drool-lick-slurp) red heads......." keep moving.........

7. "Does your Dog still recognize you?"
I give this one an A.
Not a bad logic leap I suppose. Right up there with the lady in the Dog
Park, who also had a Yellow Lab, who looked at me with panic stricken eyes as our two dogs
romped in the snow...clutched my arm and said: "How are we going to tell them apart when
it's time to leave?"

Me: "Um...we'll ask them for ID?"

In all fairness I DID hear a confused canine-like howl when I removed the hair towel for the first time but after I came to I realized that it had just been me.

And now for my absolute all time favorite said to me by a homeless guy outside the library:

8. "WOAH! That is RED!"

And then incongruously enough: "Are you from around here?"

A definite A++

Me: "No. I'm from the planet zeP. And if you don't let go of my boot I'll....hey, are you going
to finish that Twinkie?"

And so it goes.

It's funny how change affects people.

And interestingly odd how people react to change around them.

As for myself? I'm starting to like it. It's different.

And sometimes different is good for the soul.

Life's too short to always walk the same path.
And I don't expect the geeky guy I'm smitten with to ever know I'm alive.....
But at least now I know.

And to Brittany I say: "You do it, Girl! And add a few more tattoo's before that hair starts to grow in as a reminder that life isn't about what other people think."

Now. Where did I put that Spandex onesie?

MLRF '07

Saturday, February 3, 2007


is a service provided by Foxmorton's Blog.
Advice not guaranteed nor lab tested though
once or twice circumstances arose where
we surprised ourselves. Foxmorton takes
no responsibility for damages incurred
whilst heedin' said advice.
Names will be changed t' protect yer dignity.
Though I'm thinkin' iffen ye had any o' that left ye wouldn't be writin'.
No Beaver's were harmed in th' answerin'
o' these questions though a few have
been reported t' be neglected. ~Foxmorton's Beaver


Ahoy Foxmorton!

Wit' that there bloody Valentine's Day just down th' quay I finds meself adrift wit' nary a sweetness t' be found in me missive box. Ye sees...I did make th' grand mistake o' likin' this here handsome pirate though when I tried t' makes meself noticed I fears I may have come across well...what ye might calls a bit...aggressive. Aye an' it be not like th' bleedin' did na stop directly an' I'm sure his scarrin's goin' t' be all but undetectable...though I has ne'er seen a look o' terror liken unto that even th' time I lashed wee Johnny Knickerknots t' me mizzenmast an' forced him t' take me t' th' Commodore's Parrot Bake an' Hemp Games even though his Mother said no.

Me question: Do ye gets better results wit' hot pine pitch or a goodly grape shot spray t' th' face? I don't wants t' mess up next time 'round.

~Bipolar Annie

Ahoy Annie!

Aye. Th' curse o' all celebratin' days: Bloody Hearts an' Guts Day! They cuts out yer heart then hands ye yer guts! There ought'a be a law, I says. But come what may, an' it always does, there it be an' naught a well-meanin' piratess can do about it 'ceptin' stay half cocked an' fully loaded wit' a good eye out fer them what's on the gettin' end o' romantical gifts an' such an' is pickleheaded enough t' shows 'em t' ye. It ain't a waste o' shot I thinks iffen ye grabs their swag afore they hits th' ground an' reminds 'em on their way down their True Love ain't got no chin.

I feels yer plight. Who makes up a day where only those who be gettin' any get some?
I say we start our own day! We'll calls it: "Ahoy There, Scardypants! Look At This!" But them there Hallmark people has yet t' return me calls.

So, ye've made a wee mistake. Ye flashed yer flintlock afore ye flashed yer smile. Yer a pirate. Get o'er it. An' in my experience ye ain't likely t' make th' same mistake again. Ye e'er sees a pirate wit' TWO hooks? Exactly. Besides, iffen he can't hold up t' th' initial 'Meat & Greet' I'm thinkin' ye weren't goin' t' see no roses an' squid cakes anyhow. I'd tells ye there be other fish in th' sea but that be jus' somethin' stupid people say when they don't want t' be listenin' t' yer love woes. Besides, all them fish got th' same stink on 'em anyways so's it probably wouldn't be doin' ye any favors.

Now, go get's yer self one o' them there dot-to-dot color book's an' a bottle o' good rum an' settles in fer th' long haul. Oh, and pops a headless kipper wit' a dubh through it's heart anonymously in th' mail t' yer intended. E'ery body loves t' get a Valentine.

Fair' keep yer chin up. It'll keeps ye from gettin stains on yer bodice.

ps. I finds that there hot pitch t' be a bugger t' gets outen yer pirate iffen ye plans on usin' him
again. I'd go with th' grape shot an' jus' wait fer th' scabs t' falls off.