Point of No Return
I suppose it was bound to happen eventually.
I mean, you really can’t fault the poor girl. She was desperate to get my attention, and she resorted to a drastic maneuver to get me to notice her. She’s young, sorting through a lot of things in her life and she was clinging to her one fantasy to get her through this rough patch in life.
Yes, Britney Spears shaved her head — in a blatant attempt to get my attention.
To be fair, Spears probably joined the Fraternity of the Clean Scalp as part of her recent meltdown. For those of you who have been paying attention to the more important news of recent times (such as Anna Nicole Smith or the new lineup for “Dancing With the Stars”), Spears entered a world of panty-less public appearances and all-night partying with buddy and spiritual advisor Paris Hilton following her split from her talent-challenged husband, Kevin Federline. The rocky times eventually landed her in rehab earlier this week (for less than a day, mind you), according to several entertainment sources.
Oh, Britney, there were so many other ways to get my attention. You could have scribbled a song about me, sent me an e-mail with your true intentions or just gotten a tattoo with my likeness, like so many other infatuated celebrities before you have done to turn my head. I mean, I remember this one time when Pamela Anderson got this tattoo of me sitting on Mt. Olympus in a Speedo with a lightning bolt in one hand and ...
But I digress.
The important thing for Spears right now is not her schoolgirl crush on me. No, no ... that’s a hopeless goal, poor disturbed girl. What Spears needs is to concentrate on her continued personal rehabilitation and to find a network of people she can rely on — who accept her unconditionally and with open arms.
She needs the fine people at Bald R Us. The motto for this fine organization, as listed on its Web site, is, “Just say no to rugs and plugs.” Yes, these are just the people that Spears can connect with, and will teach her the self-confidence it takes for her to shake her dependency problems once and for all — both for me and whatever has steered her into rehabilitation.
Actually, she has a tough road ahead of her. Let’s face it, I’m adorable. There she’s sat, way out in sunny California and only a grainy image of me on her laptop. It had to be maddening for the poor girl to just stare longingly at the shiny crown atop my head, knowing I was not in the cards for her, but still desperately trying to find a connection. Thus, she shaved.
Are any of you buying a single word of this garbage?
Truth be told, my finely-shorn noodle is not as much a fashion statement as a sign of surrender. I originally took down the Forest of Hair because, well, the forest was beginning to look more like a stranded llama in Chernobyl. Oh, you could tell the color of my hair, and if you studied it closely you could get the idea of what I was going for in a style, but there just wasn’t nearly enough coverage to offer a real head of hair to the world. So, I waved the white flag — and the Bic.
Luckily, I am not alone with this bowling ball atop my shoulders. Bald heads have dotted the bodies of such prominent individuals as Winston Churchill, James Carville, Cal Ripken Jr. and, at one point, Demi Moore. We have seen Vic from “The Shield” sport a shiny top, as well as Paul Shaffer, Montell Williams and Isaac Hayes.
My father passed along his slick scalp to me, and his father did the same before him. I know, I know ... the bald gene comes from the mother’s side, right? Well, every man on my mom’s side has a full head of hair while most of the men on my father’s side look like they could put their heads down and cruise right through a wind tunnel with very little resistance at all. I’m not buying that genetic reasoning at all.
But, the Dome of Plenty (skin) does have its advantages, as well. For instance, my shampoo budget has plummeted since I took the plunge, and I no longer have to worry about which products to rub in my hair in the morning. Windy rides in a convertible offer me no problems, and the only “hat head” I get is when that red line gets etched into my forehead — making it look like I was branded by a whip-wielding psychopath, but it still goes away in a few minutes.
Let’s not even mention the attention I get from celebrity women around the world. Remember the whole craziness with Sinead O’Connor and her shaved head?
That was all me. Oh yeah.