While scratching my head earlier, I plucked a tick from my scalp! It must've been attached to me since yesterday, when I walked around an interesting field in the Methuen backwaters. I thought I had searched myself thoroughly yesterday, but somehow this little bugger managed to burrow under my radar and probably enjoy a day's meal.
Ticks are unbelievably gross. My mother said, "What if you get lime disease?!" as if I had gone out and tried to attract ticks. You don't have to try with these varmints -- they wait around all day with their arms waving around, waiting to grab any eligible animal that passes. (If only girls were more tick-like! Actually, isn't that what happens when you get married? The parasitic woman burrows under your skin, lays eggs, and drinks your hard-earned blood? Ba-Dooom! Chssss!) But seriously, folks...
So, to help prevent any future tick encounters, I shaved off most of my ignorance grass. It was time for a change anyway. Unfortunately, my hair is very inflexible. I've only really had three different hairdos in my whole life: the Bowl (when I was very young and stupid), Baldy (which comes and goes with the changing seasons), and Almost Corporate (longer, parted, but with unwieldy sideburns).
Actually, there are probably "official" names for my stupid haircuts, but what do I know? I cut my own damn hair, and it shows. I haven't been to Supercuts (the pinnacle of precision grooming) in eons, and I'm proud of it! Sure, I'll never win a beauty contest, but at least I'm $12 richer than those slaves to Supercuts! Yeah!