Alfalfa

I forgot to mention that I got a haircut yesterday. When I came home and sat down to watch 8 Mile last night I was pretty happy with the new ‘do. When I got up this morning though, it was a whole other story. No matter what I did I couldn’t get my hair to cooperate and look fucking normal. There was this clump of hair that neither water nor hairspray nor lots of combing could keep down.

When I was in Kindergarten there was this kid Danny who was a couple of years older than me and he used to make fun of me by calling my Alfalfa because essentially the same problem. Insults never leave me folks. Stupid things I do never leave me. When I look in the mirror and feel like I’ve somehow reverted to that old Chris that kids made fun of, I get really angry and I start to yell and sometimes I hit things.

Today I punched the wall in my bedroom. My thumb hurt for a while afterward.

It did make for a good laugh when I got into work today because when Jody and Scott asked me how I was doing I mentioned something about being an angry young man and then Scott went and dug up the lyrics to the Billy Joel song of the same name and I had myself a chuckle. The rest of day was a pure, unadulterated ball of stress, but that chuckle still makes me chuckle at the end of the day.

And I guess my haircut isn’t that bad after all. I no longer want to hunt down the hairdresser that did this to me and rip her lungs out, which is what I wanted to do this morning on my way into work before blasting The Donnas album chilled me out.