Getting to Know Me

Huarachi Sandals, Too!

Yes, folks... the mikestand, self proclaimed unabashed lyricphile, realised over the weekend (on my own, thank you very much) that the first line of Surfin' USA is really:

"If everybody had an OCEAN"
and not:
"If everybody had a notion"

I've always thought it was "notion". Why? No idea, but now I'm brought to wonder why a 7 year old, sitting around in 1980 with his mom's record collection and a scratchy portable record player would come up with the word "notion" as a lyric?

Special thanks go out to The Toddler's newest kid's CD (which gets inordinate airtime in the van) for clearing up that 25-year misconception. I haven't told The Lovely Wife about this, but I guess I won't be making fun of her for her own misheard lyrics until this one blows over.

Confessions of a Product Queen

At any given time, I have no fewer than four tubs of pommade / wax / fiber / molding paste on the go. And this for a guy who has virtually no hair (and definitely no style). Why, you ask? Well, it goes back to a long time ago (Junior High, probably) when I actually had what might be described as "good hair", and plenty of it (though not as much as here). Granted, I also wore v-neck sweaters in a plethora of colours (and now they're just grey) so my recollection may not be trustworthy.

The Lovely Wife mocks me mercilessly, every time I come home from a haircut with a $20 tub of somethingorother, which undoubtedly I will not be satisfied with its level of hold, mold, and / or pliability. I'm clearly insane. The only product I could really get behind is American Crew Fiber, but I can hardly find it anywhere and when I do, it's $22. So I try in vain to find a substitute:

- The molding paste? Not sticky enough. (Why I have three kinds of it in the bathroom is beyond me.)
- The wax? Too goddamn sticky* (only two kinds kicking about)
- Pomade? Shiny, yes. Hold? Not even. (one kind, unless you count TLW's stash that I periodically poach)

Recently a stylist told me that molding paste wasn't good for my type of hair (and what type would that be? disappearing?) and that the salon owner should not have been pushing that instead of fiber on me. TLW's stylist told me I should start mixing product cocktails -- mixtures of fiber and pomade, or pomade and gel, to get a good mix. But frankly, I'm too neurotic to even get my hair styled the same way two days in a row -- i.e. i'm not going to learn anything. So that's no good to me.

So until American Crew goes on sale (for good), I'm doomed to the never-ending cycle of drugstore experimentation and terminal vanity.

*lather, rinse, repeat 10 times

I... Get Weak

As I mentioned in my previous post, I have a habit of, well, losing consciousness when it comes to all things body-invasion related. That is to say, watching needles, giving blood, or even watching loved ones in pain (at one point while The Lovely Wife was delivering Younger Son, I had more nurses watching over me than her). I'm the guy counting ceiling tiles when they draw blood at the clinic. Needles(s) to say, the whole Bone Marrow Donor matching thing wasn't a simple process to got through, especially since they collapsed a vein in one arm before getting one to work in the other (annnnnd it's time to take a break from writing this! Save as Draft! Save as Draft!).

This really became an obstacle in my plans to someday become a doctor, but I learned to accept that perhaps I wasn't cut out for the kind of job that not only involves blood, but may involve professionally and even daily a) stopping bleeding and b) making people bleed. Maybe that's why I was so turned on by Anthropology; Anybody 5,000 years old has long since run out of blood.

Ring, Ring

I've never pulled a fire alarm. That's not really surprising, considering most people probably have that in common. But something about them intrigues me to the point that I'm afraid that I might accidentally and momentarily zone out, lose control of my arms, and pull one. Not because I want to get myself into a certain brand of adolescent trouble and a fat municipal citation, because really, causing that kind of panic and grief is not my style. We've probably all evacuated our school at one time during childhood, owing to a particularly troublesome individual (I'm looking at you, Brock Fingland). It's only fun if it gets you out of the school during Social Studies.

I think I'm just so afraid of it happening that I wonder if I could possibly be the cause of such mayhem. And when you work in an 18 storey building, the bloody place is chock full of little red levers you can't pull, tormenting you mercilessly. I think my psyche and I have to sit down and have a long, long talk.

Don't you just love sharing? NaBloPoMo may lead to my overdose by narcissism.

Day 24

Posted bythemikestand at 7:04 AM  

4 stepped up to the mike:

Brianna said... 6:19 PM, November 24, 2006  

I can totally related to the desire to pull fire alarms. I sometimes also get fascinated with the idea of breaking plates.

I like the difi hair wax:

izenkumon said... 6:55 PM, November 24, 2006  

Were you and Axl Rose separated at birth, or what?

Christine said... 9:42 AM, November 25, 2006  

i used to throw plates from my place of employment onto the street that runs below it. VERY therapeutic.

Anonymous said... 3:25 AM, November 27, 2006  


I use American Crew Fiber too. You think you have it bad, try finding it in Singapore.

(I loaded up on a few jars before I left).

Post a Comment