Thursday, June 30, 2005
In hate of hair.
My head is partying like it’s 1999.
I haven’t let my hair get this long since the last millennium. I’m beginning to remember why.
Hair longer than an inch and a half is a damn hassle, and I’m currently approaching the four-inch mark. Back when my follicles were shorter than my pinkie, I’d jump right out of the shower, rub in some gel, and get on with my life. Nowadays it takes a whole five-step process to make my hair at least somewhat presentable.
First I work in a batch of reworkable putty as a primary base. Then I rub in an equal amount of creme pomade to lighten it up. After waiting a minute or two for it to solidify, I streak in some liquid fiber for some added texture. Then I mess it all up with some whipped gel to volumize. And finally, I finish it off with a dab of sculpting clay to hold it all in place.
Good Lord. After typing that out, I have to admit I’ve never felt gayer than I do right now.
Anyways. Moving along…
On days when I manage to do all the steps properly and in correct amounts, I end up looking not too bad. But those days are rare. Most of the time, I end up not working in enough of some ingredient, and it all falls apart, giving me that stoogey Moe look. The other days, I add too much of something, and it sinks, making me look like some 50’s sitcom character. And no matter how much of whatever I put in, during the walk from the train station to my office, the Windy City always lives up to his name, and I end up looking like Wolverine.
But the worst thing about my current lengthy locks is the developing nasty rash on my scalp. Either I’m alergic to creme pomade, or my scalp can’t breathe under the mass of hair. Whatever the reason, my head itches like crazy, and dandruff shampoo isn’t doing a damn thing.
I’ve had it. I’m trimming this thing as soon as possible. I regret disappointing its fans, though. I know some of the guys have been complimenting me on my oldschool hairdo, but they’re probably just leading me on like that time in highschool they told Sergio that he looked good in his cape just so he would wear it to the school banquet.
So I guess this means goodbye to the ‘99 ‘do.
I hope it burns in hell.
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11:48 PM
Wednesday, June 29, 2005
Gotta love hot animal sex.
In my spare time, I like to assemble pornographic wallpapers for my desktop. Enjoy!
800x600
1024x768
1152x864
1280x1024
1440x900 (for you 17’ widescreen G4 PowerBook owners like myself)
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07:21 AM
Saturday, June 25, 2005
Consider this my extra pair.
Six months ago, I used to own a little site called ozzyboy.com. Then my hosting company went out of business without notifying me and my site was gone. I tried to find another company to host me, but soon discovered I never owned ozzyboy.com in the first place. The genius who ran Bloghosts registered the domain under his own name instead of mine. That meant that until the registry expired on August 25, 2005, ozzyboy.com would be the property of some guy named Jace Herring and remain completely untouchable.
So ozzyboy was gone. At least until autumn.
But I missed it. The random ramblings. The pictures of the day. People pretending to be Brian Brown on my tagboard. I just couldn’t wait it out any longer. I decided to shell out the $50 for a new site. Unfortunately, it couldn’t be ozzyboy.com.
I’ve been ozzyboy since that fateful day a decade ago when my family signed up for AOL, and the only way I could think up a screenname was to scan around the room until my eyes finally came to rest on my dad’s OZ books on the shelf. Why I decided to add “zyboy” to the end of it, I’ll never really know. Aside from the occasional IM from some random Ozzy Osbourne fan, I thought it was quite a nice identity.
But now that name is the property of some jerk named Jace. Sure, I still have the Instant Messenger account and the Gmail address, but it’s just not the same without the dot com.
But I had to move on. I had to think up a new domain name if I ever hoped to ramble again. I scanned the general vicinity for domain ideas, and after passing on Supermanboy and Calendargirlguy, I managed to find the following rambling on my hard drive that I hadn’t managed to post before ozzyboy.com went under:
| I had my mandatory pre-employment drug test on Sunday. I’m not a heroin addict, so I was pretty sure it would go smoothly. I guzzled down a good four or five cups of water before my appointment and headed down to the clinic.
After inquiring of my water consumption and lack of recent urination, the doctor handed me a cup, pointed at the designated fill line, and directed me to the bathroom where I would make my deposit. I unzipped and let the urine flow. Well, not flow. More like trickle. Even with the quart-plus of water I had just ingested, I could barely muster enough urine to fill it three-fourths of the way to the instructed amount. I should have known that water takes awhile to filter through a bodily system. Fifteen minutes is not enough time for a bladder to fill. It was going to be some time until some liquid managed to meander through my body and down my urinary tract, but I knew the doc would get a little suspicious if it took a patient ten minutes to fill a two ounce cup. So I pushed and squeezed with all my might for just a little more of the golden stuff. I flexed and clenched every muscle down below hoping and praying to get anything out. And it finally came… …out of my ass. Shitting yourself is one of the more creative ways to fail a urine test. That’s like trying to fill out an essay and coming up with a math equation instead. It wasn’t a massive amount of feces. I’d say about the size and consistency of a melted M&M. But trust me, crapping your pants in any measurement is not a moment of pride. I would have taken off my pants, wiped my anus, and rinsed off my Fruit of the Looms, but the length of time that would take and the sounds of a running faucet would definitely make the doctor think something shady was going on. I had no choice. I just zipped up, opened the door, and shemefully handed him my unfinished urine test. He poured half of it in a test tube and tossed the rest of it in the trash. I soiled myself for nothing. A bit too embarrassed to ask the doc if I could use his facilities to clean myself up, I just left and drove home sitting in my own shit, wishing I had the foresight to stow an emergency pair of spare underwear in the glove compartment. |
And so spareunderwear.com was born. I’d like to think that ozzyboy.com may have gotten shitted all over, but this site here will be my extra pair until I get the old site out of the wash. And I’m not complaining. This really doesn’t feel too bad on my bare ass.
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02:08 AM