In Which I Blog About Bangs and Not Beer

Day one of not blogging about beer: I've heard from a faithful reader that I blog about beer too often. And with you all as my witness I will stop. Here and now. Cold turkey. I’m all about pleasing my public, for why else would I click that 'publish post' button instead of restricting my dysfunctional life to notes on pub coasters.

Of course I also click that 'publish post' button so you all can click that Humor-Blogs button so I get beat the crust off of Honey Pie--which just ain't happening. (BTW, I recently voted for my own post not because I think I'm funny, but because Hamell is funny. It seems some of you missed his video clip called Ann Coulter's Snatch. Folks, please, even if you don't like the C word, even if you disagree with Hamell's politics, this is one clever guy. Scroll down and be prepared to laugh. And if Ann Coulter doesn't amuse you, try one of Hamell's songs about fast food or drug use or beer...Oops. Sorry. Must not blog about beer).

Anyway, I'm also backing off on blogging about my 3 Handfuls, who drive me to drink. Of course I say that tongue and cheek. I don’t need an excuse to drink. Rather, I mean, I like to drink. I mean, not to to drown my sorrows or to get drunk and dance on the tables at Mickey Finn's (this is a purely made-up example). No, I drink micro-brewed IPAs for that bitter, hoppy flavor which…Oops beer again. Sorry. This is really hard.

Anyway, today I am blogging about my bangs. A few weeks ago while on vacation in CA, I was told by the Tonight show crew that I looked like this woman:



Thanks to all who said it was a compliment. But Susan Sarandon is like, old. And even though she has Tim Robbins who is a buddy of John Cusack, I used to be told that I look like Meg Ryan who’s actually had John Cusack, if you know what I mean.

So I’m on a mission to look younger.

I go into a hip music store and ask Hot Clerk With Sideburns to help me find a youthful shirt.

Who’s it for?

For me, I say, admiring his high tops.

OK. How’s this? He holds up a shirt with anime characters on it. It was youthful all right--12-year old teenie bopper youthful.

No, that’s not quite right.

Hot Clerk With Sideburns And High Tops leads me to a different table. How’s this one? he says.

This one’s 19-year old cardboard guerilla death metal youthful. At least we’re heading in the right direction.

I shake my head.

Who is this for, really? Hot Young Clerk w/SAHT asks.

Dude, it’s for me.

He walks to a rack under a poster of My Morning Jacket and pulls out a gray shirt.

This one is perfect for you. It has a message on it.

Now I am reduced to Ms Clichéd Customer who’ll wear a shirt with a message. I look it over. I quickly consider the anime. But I don't want to disappoint Hot Young Clerk, so I take the message. And it is a pretty cool message:



It features guns turning into musical instruments and says 'Weapons of Choice.'

One problem. I consumed so much beer, I mean, barbeque on vacation that the shirt is too small for me. So what do I do? I cut my bangs—not unlike a 12-year old teenie bopper’s.

Did it work? Do I still look like Susan Sarandon?

Dang. I forgot to take a photo of myself with my new bangs—kind of like sending an email and forgetting the attachment.

OK. Well. Stayed tuned for the next post in which I reveal my bangs (and not how much I love Stone Brewery's Ruination. Sorry. More beer. I guess I suck at this).

p.s. Is there an age cut off for high tops?

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