The Annual Argument

Right this way, ladies and gentlemen. It’s time once again for our fine annual tradition: The Argument About the Haircut.

Ben brought it up on Mother’s Day, which was great. He was all, so yeah hey I want to cut Soren’s hair and I was all, waaaaaaaaaah. I mean, I didn’t actually cry, but I might as well have because I’m staunch in my opposition to Soren getting a haircut and I know that, if Ben brings it up once he’ll bring it up 100 times until he wears me down and I give in even though I’d rather not.

I don’t want to sound like one of those people who makes problems out of things that aren’t really problems, like oh no we bought this new thing and now we have to buy more new things look at my pretty skirt life is so very hard oh hi I’m rich. In life, getting a haircut is not a big deal, well, pretty much ever. But especially if:

Mordecai Children's Garden
Baby boys in overalls =

you’re darn cute after you get a haircut. The pictures are from last summer, after Soren’s first (and only) haircut.

But . . . but . . . but. I still love little boys with long hair. I mean:

Soren

This was shortly before that haircut.

Did you see the season finale of Criminal Minds? Don’t worry, I’m not going to talk about a tv show, but there was this kid in the episode and he was maybe a year older than Soren and had the most beautiful long hair, ever. It turns out he’s the real-life kid of Criminal Minds cast member A.J. Cook. I couldn’t find a great photo (GIS thinks that if you say Mekhai Andersen you must really mean Mekhi Phifer), but he looks like this (also there are some people on Tumblr who are really into Criminal Minds):

Screen Shot 2012-05-21 at 9.22.23 PM

Cute, yes? And fantastic hair. That makes me think Soren’s hair needs to be longer, not shorter. This means I’m on a collision course with Ben, who thinks he and his son should get one haircut a year, just in time for summer.

I’ll try to be strong. No haircuts. Not now not ever! (Okay, not really. Probably haircuts, eventually. But not now!)

Let’s talk about haircuts again. (I know.)

I’ve had this bee in my bonnet about short hair ever since I posted that picture of Ben and me from 2002 the other day. Here’s another picture of me and my hair from sometime in 2002.

This is old.I cropped Ben out of this picture because I needed a picture of just me for something. How rude! And I can’t find the original version.

Anyway, look. I was quite a bit younger in 2002 than I am now (um, duh?) but aside from the bobby pin, this isn’t so bad? Sometimes I think I’m one of those women who kind of (maybe?) look better with short hair than long hair. Like Halle Berry? Only totally nothing like her.

And of course now I have, like, the longest hair ever because I’m a crazy mountain hippie, but whatever.

The problems I have with short hair (for myself) are numerous:

  • In my experience, my hair needs a bit of “product” when it’s short, lest I look like a middle-school gym teacher (no offense to middle-school gym teachers, at all — you’re awesome and that’s a difficult age to work with), which is not really my jam. But I hate hair that feels like there’s product in it.
  • You have to get trims all the freaking time.
  • Sure, if you have a short enough pixie cut, you don’t have to do much to style your hair . . . but, I always found that I couldn’t just roll out of bed and look presentable (arguably, my default ponytails and side braids these days aren’t the height of presentable, but you know).
  • Short hair and giant glasses might not be as good (“good” being a relative term here) a look as long hair and giant glasses.
  • I don’t really wear eye makeup any more.
  • I like my hair either very long or very short. I hate having mid-length hair. If I go very short, I’ll either have to stay that way forever or be miserable for years.
  • Because the prevailing wisdom as I understand it has generally always been that as women get older, they “should” have shorter hair, I of course, as a tedious contrarian by nature, want to have longer hair as I get older.

But . . . but . . . but . . . (and, for the record, I had nothing to do with watching Oscars shit last night but I don’t make fun of it either, because if there’s anything more boring than people who get all bitchy on Twitter making fun of what other people do for entertainment I don’t know what it is, although now that I think about it, it might be sending your Foursquare or whatever updates directly to Twitter or being a professional athlete who tweets shit like “What up twitfam?” or “I just ate and now I’m watching tv”) then I see something like this and I’m all, oh, I should totally do that.

Getty Images North America

And I’m no Michelle Williams. And I totally shouldn’t do that, probably. But it is incredibly cute.

WTF Wednesday: I look like a cartoon character.

The fact that I’m posting this picture of myself publicly on the internet is a problem, but I have to show you something. My bangs are at the most awful stage bangs ever experience, which I refer to as the “Aaaaah!” stage in the Cycle of Bangs. This is where I spend 60% of my waking hours pulling them to the side, calculating the distance between their current length and the length at which they will remain behind my ear after being put there and then estimating the number of months left until that magical day arrives.

Clearly, whatever “unstyling” thing I’ve been trying to get going with my bangs is not working. Cut me a little slack because I ran 6.24 miles earlier today and haven’t showered yet. I know, gross. But trust me when I say that my bangs looked this bad all day long even before I hit the gym. I’ve been willingly inflicting this shit on people for weeks now.

Today I finally realized that I look like an older, low-rent version of Peppermint Patty.

Yeah no.Peppermint Patty

I mean really, why. I need to get some freaking barrettes (my hair is too fine to sustain bobby pins on a reliable basis) and vow to never, ever, ever get bangs again.

WTF Wednesday: Bangs

Bangs. I always get them and I always hate them.

It’s as certain as death and taxes. As soon as my bangs finally grow out and I am freed from the prison of having annoying hair in my face all the time and the associated problems including but not limited to greasy bangs (and the existential dilemma of whether to wash them more often even though I know that just makes them more determined to be greasy) and sweaty bangs that bug the crap out of me while running (I can’t wear headbands because they, like, move around and also my head is gigantic have you seen it) and bang separation issues, I’ll go right out and get them again.

I made an illustration of my relationship with bangs using my toddler’s LARGE washable crayons. I call it “The Cycle of Bangs” and it is destined to repeat itself over and over and over in my lifetime.

cycle of bangs

I’m currently in Why?!! territory, headed toward Aaaaah!! Fun times.

Maybe one day I’ll learn.

Vintage: Lithuanians + Craig Sager = AWESOME

This was originally published on August 11, 2008.
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Dan Steinberg is my new favorite person on the internet. Yesterday, he discussed the fact that Lithuania’s Fans Are Balling. I love this so much, because he recognizes something that has made me very proud for many years — My People are freaking awesome. We love our basketball. And we have the tie dye (well, “we” in the sense of, as a people, some Lithuanians represent by wearing tie dye although I personally do not because, well, ew) to prove it. Also, many of us have green eyes, which is rare (I learned this the other day). Random, but cool! Like Lithuanians! We’re also known for being stubborn, which is a blessing and a curse, let me tell you.

Dan Steinberg also bestowed upon the world the most awesome interview with Craig Sager to ever exist. What do I make of Craig Sager and his fixation on blonde Lithuanian women? If you’ve read about me on Deadspin, you might be surprised.

Craig Sager

Prince Williams/Getty Images

Craig Sager is one of those guys who I notice every time he’s on TV, but I don’t really know anything about him. Whenever he’s reporting from the sidelines of an NBA game, I yell at B, “Dude! Check out what he’s wearing! When you’re old you need to dress like this!” His wardrobe is the shit and in life, he’s attained a certain level of awesomeness.

My thoughts on the Craig Sager interview are twofold. First, I think that, once you’ve achieved a certain level of awesomeness in life, you’re allowed to say some crazy shit and that adds to, rather than detracts, from your awesomeness. Second, I think that there’s nothin’ wrong with appreciating anybody’s hotness. I’m not going to blame anybody for finding, say, blonde Lithuanian women hot. They are! There’s nothing wrong with recognizing that.

I also love the wardrobe discussion. Quoth Sager:

Yeah. I brought all sorts of different underwear that match my shirt. That’s the only thing I can do.

Hee.

Anyway, my favorite part of the interview isn’t anything Craig Sager said. It was something Dan Steinberg said. Here’s a snippet (Steinberg is in bold):

The dunking mascots missed all of their dunks off the trampoline.

Did they?

You’re not supposed to miss your dunks off the trampoline.

Well, see, I can give you perspective on that too, because I was [Willie] the Wildcat at Northwestern.

Of course you were.

No really, I just died from laughing so hard. Craig Sager, international pimp and appreciator of Lithuanian sexy women (is saying “Lithuanian sexy” redundant?) is talking about all kinds of shit and, just to show how he thoroughly out-awesomes you in every possible way, he tells you that, in addition to being married to a Luvabull and being too busy to pay attention to dunking mascots while he provides his earth-shattering commentary on athletic festivities, which is how he makes a living and is much cooler than whatever you do, he throws in that he was the mascot at Northwestern. To this, what other response could there be but, “Of course you were.”

I’m going to find a way to work “Of course you were” into my everyday conversation when possible.

I was the attorney who worked tirelessly to exonerate the innocent defendant with the help of newly discovered DNA evidence.

Of course you were.

I was really drunk and actin’ a fool at the Rockies game before they put me in the little self-contained jail within the bowels of Coors Field.

Of course you were.

Maybe I’ll even wear tie dye while saying it.