Adventures in hair awesomeness

So I have great hair. Not to sound arrogant or anything, but it's pretty fuckin awesome. Granted, my perception of my own glorious locks might be a bit skewed because of the fact that A.)My father, grandfather and brother were all completely bald by the time they were 20 and, B.) My 30th birthday came and went with 100% of my follicles intact. But not to bullshit you or anything, I do have some pretty sweet hair.

It's somewhat ironic though, that it's taken me until my 30's to realize this. It makes a bit of sense, if you think about it though. I went to grade school in the 80's, an awful era for hair by any stretch of the imagination. I attended high school in Reno NV in the 90's and at that time the very apex of masculine coiffure-dom was the Billy Ray Cyrus mullet; looking back I'm so glad now that I wasn't that cool then.

I graduated high school and left five days later for the Army, where they promptly buzzed my teenage dome. Over the next 8 year in the military (both active and reserve) I pretty much kept the exact same haircut: one inch long at the bangs and shorter as it goes back; zero-cut with clippers on the sides and back, fade it up and blend. After I finished my reserve tenure (which coincided with my junior year of college) I went crazy and let it grow out to 1.5 inches at the bangs and went from a zero on the sides to a one. I pretty much kept this same haircut for half a decade until finally last summer during a period of unemployment I said "fuck it" and decided to not cut it.

The end result of that lovely experiment was that I realized exactly how kickass my hair really is. But what I also discovered is that making sure my hair goes where I want it takes so work. Like serious work. Over the last nine months I've gone through dozens of different combinations of gel, pomade and hairspray applied at various stages of dry, damp and wet; all in search for that combination of perfectly-placed shiny spikiness that makes men sigh in wistful envy and young ladies swoon with lust. I mean let's face it, girls: hair this good bypasses your ears and talks directly to your fallopian tubes.

So just a few days ago, after a dismal hair week I went out on a hunch and purchased a bottle of Bedhead Creative Genius. After a few showers and several attempts at finding the perfect level of dampness to apply, I discovered it's the perfect shaper to apply just before adding a final touch of pomade for glossy sheen. Four days running now and my hair has shockingly, gloriously perfect for almost 92 hours. Alas, in that time frame Ive been stuck at work or on a drunken Michigan basketball-watching binge so the time for one-sided uterian conversations has been limited, but I aim to remedy that soon. Updates to follow soon. Welcome to my page.