New 'do

I fell asleep at the barber's chair yesterday. I'm one of those guys that needs a trim at least once every two weeks in order to keep the hotness rating above a 7.

It's never any fun to be so angry at your hair stylist that your scalp begins to sweat profusely as you sit, your fists tightly clenched beneath the smock. It's never any fun to plan out your escape route to the front door after you've paid $15 for your haircut and aren't willing to glance at the woman you've coldly just stiffed the tip on.

My coworkers think it looks cute. An Asian Wentworth Miller, they say I look like. Matthew Fox. Justin Timberlake.

But they're all liars.

My hair is uncombable right now. And I want to cry.

I think I'm just going to wear a baseball cap at all times during this entire weekend, and when people ask me why, I'll tell them I lost my hair to leukemia.