Don’t Threaten ME with a Haircut

Lately a sect of people had been asking me to cut my hair, telling me that I look foolish. And I mostly think that’s absurd… because I DID cut my hair. I was all the way down to me chin, and I cut it and I dyezzzz… bah! Honestly, who cares, why am I talking about hair and where the hell did adventurous Timmy go? Right?

Well, and herein lies the rub. I was finally convinced to cut my hair. And it happened the only way that it ever happens – I was threatened with a good time. A certain “what if” was presented to me and I liked the idea.

See, people all over, no matter if they are too wussed-out to admit it are sensitive about their hair. Yeah, even dudes, although we never admit it. Trust me, I know… I’ve had to wait and deal with BS-dudes being Nancy-boys as they take 30 minutes to get ready for a sports bar. BUT, To me, it’s a statement: “Hey, dude… I’m not like the others, man. I’m different. And I think you should know this before you even approach me”. That’s a nice little weapon to have, and nothing more. And to loose that would probably make my life more difficult. Or maybe not? Again though, to finish the thought: I was offered an adventure. What if…. What if I was brave enough to just let someone do whatever the hell they want?

Yeah, I was in another of those all-too-common discussions with a friend out here about how I’m adventurous …and fearless …and blah-blah el-macho [Add another “I think I’m great at everything" line here] blah-blah…. When I was challenged…

If I’m so brave, then why wouldn’t I let someone do whatever the hell they wanted to my pelt? Why indeed? That’s pretty audacious, I guess. Just saunter right in and say: “Hey, do whatever looks the best,” right? Or not: “do whatever you want. Surprise me;” …Screw it. Lay the chips on the table, hold your cards to your chest and brace yourselves… because I’m in.

And so… I did it. And yeah… well, here it is… the new, Euro-Styled…. TIAMMMMMMAH:

::Old Skool Timmah::

::EUROTImmmAH::