Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

If you came here via search engine looking for "hairy box" or "bald head" for some type of perversion, you came to the wrong place. You freak! That sort of thing can be found three blogs to your left. Move along now. Buh-bye! Okay, now, where was I? Oh yes, I have prepared a collage of sorts for you. 1) business 2) serious 3) holy hairy box Batman!

Operation Escape

It's a lovely new week at Random Picture... Random Story, the other blog I write for once each week. Don't forget to checkout the photo posted below this week's entries. There was a tough photo posted this time, but there's nothing like a good challenge. You can comment there too, and don't think you're only "allowed" to read and comment on my crap.

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Dying For Vanity

I'm all about good causes and I hope this doesn't come out the wrong way, but I'm saying it anyhow because it's been on my mind. I was asked to cover a story about an organization that recently opened a new location nearby.

The story was about a fairly new chapter to the American Cancer Society, "Look Good ... Feel Better". They are dedicating themselves to making people with cancer feel less undesirable by teaching them how to properly apply wigs, false eyelashes and makeup. (Technically, they do more than that, but those are the main functions. Click their link to learn more.)

Personally, I am a volunteer junkie, I can't get enough of good causes. The truth is, I'm not so much upset at the organization, but with the way we, as a society, perceive how people, primarily, women should look.

As a freelance writer, I've written hundreds of stories I didn't necessarily agree with because it's just my job. I couldn't help but turn this one down, though. Part of my reasoning was because of the passing of my father last month from cancer. Just a year earlier, my mother in-law also died from cancer. Two years before that my uncle also lost his battle. My dear friends Betty and Veronica have felt it's wrath firsthand, and thankfully are still with us today. And now Trashman's mom, also is facing the dreaded disease. It's everywhere I look.

But, to look less undesirable? These people have a terminal illness. Why is it that we can't let them focus all of their energies on getting well and living life to the fullest, rather than taking a 12 hour course to learn how to apply fake hair to their bald heads?

I know it's just the society we have grown over the centuries causing this. And I'm not saying people who look good, sometimes don't feel better about themselves.

Maybe this story was just too close for me right now. Who knows? I guess what I'm getting at is, if this is something certain people want to do for themselves, great and I hope it helps. But if they are doing it because they are afraid that people will stare, I say, "Fuck it! Let 'em stare." And while they are staring, flip them the bird! That'll give them something to look at.

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Mr. Postman's, Nice Package

Get your mind out of the gutter! This post has nothing to do with the postman's "package", rather, what he delivered to me one fine afternoon.

There I was in the newsroom, minding my very own business. The mailman came in.
"You're Lois, right?"
"Yes."
"Could you sign for a package?"
"Sure."

I figured it was my daily mailing of anthrax. He walked back outside, went to his truck, and came back with a cardboard box that was covered in hair. Yes, I said, "hair".

"What the hell is this?"

He smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

"You brought me a hairy box? I already have one, but thanks."

The postman giggled like a schoolgirl and let me know the folks in his office also got a good laugh.

The hairy box had more than it's 15 minutes of fame in the newsroom before I ever got around to opening it to find out what in the world it really was. I had to take my big desk scissors to the mountain of hair, to find the opening. (Yes, I am aware of how bad that sounds, thank-you-very-much.)

Once open, inside the mysterious hairy box, was a hair removal system called Nads. It came with a press kit and a letter asking me to review the product and publish it in the newspaper, sending them a clip when it printed.

The only type of review I ever did for the product is right here and right now, if you can even call this a review. Although, I have to say it was pretty tempting to tie Mr. Lane up and make him look like the captain of the men's swim team, taking every hair off of his body, then photographing him, posting his bald bod on the net, but I never did. I never used it on myself either.

I wound up giving my Nads (Yes, the puns can be endless with this stuff.) as a regift to my aunt with the deep voice. I think she liked it, but come to think of it, she hasn't called since.

When they say "The postman delivers." they aren't kidding. If you guys want a hairy box of your very own, just ask your postman.