This is what often takes place after I have an
encounter with a woman that I have a
crush on. Like many things I do, it is terribly
odd and
pointless. After concluding a nice little conversation with the person, I run frantically to the nearest
mirror or mirror-like object (could be a
window, a
soup can, or the "back" of a
compact disk also works quite well), and check to see if my
hair looks "good". For some reason, I feel
satisfied if it does look good, and I get terribly
distraught if it looks bad. I know this serves no purpose, but it does give me a feeling as to how the encounter went. Of course, if a woman would dislike me because of messed up hair,
why the hell would I want to have anything to do with her? The answer to that question is not certain, but it probably involves
sex. Oh yeah, baby, I am an
animal. Grrr.
I only participate in this activity because I have
shaggy hair, and it has a tendency to do silly things at inappropriate times. I especially hate it when my rather
bushy sideburns get
discombobulated. If I had short, clean-cut hair, this hair check would not take place as much, probably because I would be
dead, because I would rather
kill myself than have short hair.