Where have all the curly-haired boys gone?

Is there a magical land that they trot off to after they hit their 27th birthday? Are they like the elusive unicorn that is often talked about but never seen? Do they slowly blow out rather than fade away into the obscurity that follows with lacklustre locks and receding hairlines.


It’s depressing really. To think that all curly haired boys begin shaving their heads or the wiggly pigment in their hair begins to unwind and straighten up with the pressures of adulthood and responsibilities. I mean curly-haired women keep kicking it way into their 50s, becoming free-spirited hippies or Soho artists or crazy ladies with many cats and wild, wavy hair.

I mean there is no lack of cute curly-haired babies:

Definitely, no lack in curly haired boys: ( I 3> you, Nick Jonas, and Corbin Bleu and Rupert Grint!)

Absolutely no lack of hot curly-haired guys: (OMG Brody Jenner, Adrien Grenier, Zach Mann, John Mayer, Eric Dane)

But where do they go when they hit 40 and above? They all seem to fade away. There are almost no over-40 actors in Hollywood with curly hair and none that I would consider good-looking. So what happens to them?

Where have all the curly-haired boys gone? Have they shorn their hair so short that you can barely see a single curlicue and taken up with a publicity hungry ex Top Model with an addiction to reality television a la Peter Brady?

Or have they all suffered a far worse fate becoming models for Halloween masks for crazy mad scientists?

The truth is out there.. keep the curlicues alive!

I make Lists III

My Favourite Flavours of Potato Chips Right Now:

1. Ruffles Sour Cream and Bacon
2. Lays Ketchup
3. Old Dutch Corn Chips Original Flavour
4. Lays Salt & Pepper
5. Smart Foods White Cheddar Popcorn


That is all.

I Make Lists II

My Favourite Pieces of Clothing Right Now:

1. My beige striped sweater.
2. My Purple Prairie Dress from Value Village
3. My White and Red peep-toe pumps
4. My Maxi dress from Joe Fresh
5. My Julia.... sigh....

That is all.

I Make Lists

Best songs out there right now:

1. “I’m not going to Teach your Boyfriend How to Dance with You,” The Black Kids. www.myspace.com/blackkidsrock
2. “Just Dance,” Lady Gaga. www.myspace.com/ladygaga
3. “Blind,” Hercules and Love Affair. www.myspace.com/herculesandloveaffair
4. “Cath,” Death Cab for Cutie. www.myspace.com/deathcabforcutie
5. “Shut up and Let Me Go,” The Ting Tings. www.myspace.com/thetingtings

That is all.

Melancholy and the infinite sadness....

Sometimes I get tired of being sad. It is very exhausting you know. Constant crying gives you bags under your eyes and gives you combination skin. It is true. Please don’t argue with me. I am an expert. But I’m kind of over it. Not happy, mind you, far from it actually. But not like manically depressed and sobbing.

I am melancholy and the infinite sadness. I am melancholy but I will be infinitely sad. So what of it? What should I do? I can only do so much? My mobility is limited by circumstance. I can’t exactly go travelling. I can’t bring myself to go out and party every night. I can’t lull around hanging out with friends.

I need to do something. I have been trying my best to hold back on the self hair cutting because even I’m getting tired of that. I need something new to devote some of my melancholy towards. My kitten is a good source of mindless time passing, but he has his limits and is too blind to really peak my interest for that long. I think I am a bit too old to develop an eating disorder or start cutting. Drug habits and alcoholism: it’s like been there done that. Writing is a bit too self-involved. There aren’t very many interesting vices or habits left to pick up? Maybe I will try juggling or become a porn addict....

Tears dry on their own.....

You can feel it coming but usually it is a slow build. I’ll hear the news, say all the robotic responses I am supposed to say and then say good-bye. Then without the tinging fear in your voice to concentrate on there is nothing left to save me from my fears. Alone with my thoughts, I can’t help but replay the scenarios over and over again. The regrets, the worries, the pain, the forgotten promises and dreams yet realized. There’s nothing that can soothe the wounded soul.

So I’ll excuse myself. I just need a few minutes to compose myself. To wail and to rail and to scream and to complain and to whine and then I will be fine. Minutes pass and I feel a reprieve. I wash the smudged mascara off my face. Take a few deep breathes. I look at my reflection and see nothing but swollen eyes and a fake plastic smile. But it will have to do for now. I need to get back before too many people ask what happened to her.

So I head back. Tail between my legs. Head down; no eye contact. Just try to make it back to the safe haven of the computer without causing a scene. But as soon as I sit down I see the phone where the news came from. The harbringer of disaster: you feel like throwing it across the room in frustration. I see the balled up tissue I used before I realized this would be a “time out cry” not a “quietly so no one notices cry.”

And it all comes flooding back. First sniffles and then waves and waves of tears. Still, I make no eye contact with anyone. It seems like the safest route. Then my heart starts racing. I want to just get up and leave. I want to just quit and live under my comfy down quilt for the rest of my life. I want to do something but I can’t seem to help her no matter how much I try.

But I just stay seated. Take a couple of deep breathes. Stick my head between my knees and just try to calm myself down from the brink of delerium. But it’s not working. My attempts to remain inconspicuous have turned ridiculously obvious and I can’t seem to calm down or even just breathe evenly.

So I work up enough stamina to coherently say that I won’t be able to work the rest of the day and hightale it out of there. Finally beneath the shield of my sunglasses out in the open I can cry and sniffle as I please. And by the time I reached my car, my tears had dried on their own.

You Give Me Fever

Maybe it's the heat. Or maybe it's the constant barrage of weddings and babies and lovey dovey coupledom. But for some reason I keep noticing them. Everywhere. Cute ones, not so cute ones, ones that look like ones I've dated before, ones that look like ones I wanted to date before. In groups, in couples or all by their lonesome. They are everywhere. Ones that are looking at me; ones that are looking at someone else; ones that I wish were looking at me; ones that I wish were looking at someone else.

What do they like make up half the population or something?