I really miss my mohawk.
Back when I was a young March, not yet a Medic, fresh out of high school, I got one shaved into my head. I was in a punk band at the time, but that really didn't have too much to do with the decision. Really it was all my teenage immaturity - the rebelliousness, the shock factor, the attention it drew. Boys, if you're thinking about getting one, let me tell you one thing I think it's very important for you to know - Chick LOVE the 'hawk. They like to look at it. They like to touch it. Instant cool.
But luckily that all faded away once I was no longer a teenager.
Yeah. That happened.
The thing is, I'm still kind of immature. So at a point in time last summer, I got my hawk cut again. I even brought in my company hat and the back end trimmed to fit in, so as long as I'm wearing my cap, no one could tell it was there. Alas, having three quarters of a hawk wasn't working for me, so I shaved my head. That was fun for a while, but I decided to let it grow out into my big Italian pompadour I have now-really a cross between a rockabilly type thing and the spike up strands of the guys in this video. But I like my haircut.
The lady we've just loaded up is very upset with me. Typical butterfingers (really, I don't know why XXXX Ambulance Service trusts me to hang onto a handful of air, much less an IV needle or a slippery, freshly crapped out newborn - it really boggles the mind. Also, 'andy tip for all you newbies - If you drop a baby, pick it up.) I've dropped her wig on the dusty ground. I pick it up and dust it off, hand it back to her, and apologize.
She's in a foul mood already, which is understandable, cause I know that if I couldn't poop, I'd be upset too. Anywho, she makes the comment that I probably wouldn't like it if someone dropped my hair on the ground. I told her she was absolutely correct, and I meant it, though technically it wasn't her hair, even though she owned it. Unless she shaved her legs and braided it into a hairdo. When we picked her up last week (for constipation! Imagine that!), her gams looked like two uncooked chicken drummettes that had come out on the losing side of a fight with a five gallon jug of UltraStrength Rogaine. The reason I agree with her is because my hair is connected to my head still (Hah! Take that, old people!) and dropping it would involve said head striking the theoretical ground which is something I try to avoid...in theory and in real life.
Uh, I digress, and suddenly realize I'm not going anywhere with this post.
Also, I've got a girlfriend. Woo!