I saw these little interchangeable word blocks at my friend’s house.
Just thought it was relevant.
I passed a pill bug that was stuck on its back, and without thinking, I bent over and flipped him. If it could talk, it would have probably thanked me, but I felt really good about it anyway. That’s why I think I should be the next president of the United States.
The name's Tim. Nice to meet you, maybe.
I play guitar, sing silly songs, write stuff, draw shitty pictures and make people on the Internet mad on a professional level. I drink a lot of tea and write letters to pen pals. I also think about death a lot.
I will never get tired of these Samuel L. Jackson/Guess Who jokes.
Well. It’s time. (tl;dr at the end)
Fate has decided against me, and it’s time to take my LOL OKAY FORGET THIS SERIOUS SHIT LET ME GET DOWN TO BUSINESS.
This is my hair.
It’s been hanging strong with me for a while now, and it’s sort of become my trademark. Or, at least one of them. It’s seen me at my highest and, of course, at my lowest. My hair is my best friend. My hair is my confidant. But, things have changed since the sixth grade, when I decided to stop cutting my hair.
For one, I’ve grown tired of keeping up with it. Having it in twists damages my hair, and must be redone very frequently, which it never was. Having it in corn rows just makes me look more black than I really am (giggles to self), and the afro…
Don’t get me started on the afro.
I actually have to shower every day. Can you believe that? Or, I suppose I could just wet my hair and comb it while it was wet, but it’s easier to wash if I just shower. But the combing, and the brushing… I can’t do it.
I’m just one of those people who would rather wake up and just go. Whatever with hair.
Also, it’s going to be a lot easier getting a job without strange hair. I personally would hire anyone who walked in with a ‘fro, but no one else would, apparently. I’m not wearing a damned puff ball. I can’t even tie it tight enough. So, this is a logical course of action.
I also just found out today that my girlfriend prefers guys with short hair. What kind of shit is that? I should have drawn on her face when I had the chance.
So, anyway… This is probably the last photographic evidence of my beautiful locks. The hair in the back is breaking off anyway and, at the very least, it must be trimmed. But forget trimming. I’m just gonna whack the whole thing.
tl;dr - I’m tired of doing my hair. I’m cutting it. This is a big deal.
Good night, sweet prince. You’d become a legend, hair, and now your time has come. But you shall return, I’m sure. It’s been fun.
TIM’S HAIR
(2003-2011)
