Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Post Sexy-Rumpus Hair Syndrome


Once again I find myself sitting in front of the computer with two Word documents open: My Shakespeare assignment and this random collection of twenty-one words, now twenty-three, twenty-five. We could do this all day, in fact it’s quite tempting, given how little appeal my Shakespeare assignment holds. (Sorry Bill)

I think today I’m going to talk about that all inspiring part of life: hair.

Hair, to me, is a bit like eyes, gateway into the soul, or certainly a gateway into how someone views themself. I think that little scrap of hair leftover from evolution (or because God couldn’t think of what else to put on our heads, whichever your personal opinion is) has an enormous hold on all of our lives. I mean, think about it, how much do you spend on haircuts, hair dyes and hair products a month?


I think the answer to that question can only be either $127,000,

 
or $0; 

Otherwise you’re just not going to fit into my target demographic.

Sorry.

I think that hair commands way too much influence on our lives. How often do you hear that guy with arms like tree-trunks with the collar popped on his XS t-shirt from American Apparel going on about how he only dates blondes? Or how about that nerdy kid who has red hair and therefore cannot possibly be the proud owner of a soul that constantly gets picked on? I even think that the automotive industry has a stake in this. I like to invent little formulas to explain the little foibles in life, for example, my theory on headaches. I believe that there are a finite number of headaches in the world, which are collectively shared amongst the human race. So, therefore, when you get a headache, it means that somewhere else in the world someone has just been rid of theirs, and vice-versa. I think hair is exactly the same. In my mind, the hair/sexiness equation is:

Now we all know that X is equal to the volume of someone’s hair, but I have NO idea what Y is, and I’d be happy to recommend anyone for the Nobel Prize if they can figure that one out. What were we talking about? Oh yes! The automotive industry! My point is relatively simple: How often do you see a girl driving a convertible car and you automatically assume that they are:

a)    Gorgeous

b)   A trophy girlfriend/wife

c)    Several leagues above yours (if not, all of the leagues above yours)

And

d)   Really, really bloody gorgeous

And I don’t believe that this is due to the fact that they are driving a great car. I mean, 99 times out of 100 any convertible that you see is a total piece of crap, (see Ford Capri)


Besides, not everyone has an interest in cars; in fact I think most people have no interest in cars whatsoever. But if it’s not a gorgeous car then what is sexy about it? Well, the answer by now should be obvious: It’s the hair!  I think that some part of the primitive human psyche links giant hair to everyone’s favourite pastime: sexy rumpus. Because when do people most often have a giant mass of gravity defying hair? That’s right: Post Sexy-Rumpus (which for convenience will now be known as PSR).

Which is why this,


and this,


are both equally sexy to me.


I think this is one of the biggest scientific breakthroughs of the last 400 years. (Sorry Penicillin guy)

I’ll take my Nobel Prize money in cash, thanks.

- Tom

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

I didn't read half of what you wrote (sorry) but I have come to a conclusion (impressive considering..) and it is this:

Straightener meet Bin.

Alice said...

you like the last pic for Jeremy. Don't lie ;)

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