Attempting to Reclaim Past Glory

You probably remember that over a year ago Josh M and I attempted to grow mustaches, only to find that we were genetically incapable of doing so, and the whole thing quickly spiraled downward into a humiliating debacle.

Anyway, the whole me-with-a-mustache thing was supposed to be buried deep and never mentioned again -- like when Napolean was exiled to Elba. But like Napolean, some things aren't meant to be confined or suppressed, and are destined to reclaim their past glory:

Or not.

Yeah, that's pretty horrible. (Author's note: The stoned, swollen-eyed look is not indicative of a drug addiction, but rather the annoying onset of adult allergies. Damn you, Northern Virginia. And your high oak pollen count)

Two weeks ago, when I realized that I hadn't shaved at all for a few weeks, I couldn't pass up the opportunity to shave everything but the upper-lip, you know? I just wanted to see if any progress had been made in the mustache-growing department. Obviously, there had not; in fact, if anything happened, it was a solid step in the devolving direction. I believe this elicited a "OH MY GOSH JOSH WHAT THE HELL IS THAT" from AM, but don't quote her on that.

Anyway, I saw the below video, and it made me laugh:



For me, I would describe having my mustache as feeling like "wandering through a barren, desert wasteland with no oasis in sight, and only sporadic patches of grass scattered along the way." Or something. Vivid imagery was never my thing.

PS No need to fear, the mustache was "disappeared" shortly after.

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Noko: Real. Awkward. Jeans -- Photo of the Week 7 Dec 09

 Josh M referred me to this PotW. Awkward company photos from Noko Jeans, a Swedish company attempting to make jeans in North Korea. Here's one of Mr. Erik Wahlstrom, an employee of Noko who takes jeans production in poor, authoritarian-ruled countries very, very seriously:

This is like awkward elementary school photos we used to take when we were kids, only this is a company with grownups. Maybe we should start the practice of individual photos for a company in the US, and since Nartker is the only CEO that I know personally, I challenge him to start the trend.

At the very least, I would like to see Brett Favre photos like this for Wrangler. Wait, what? You want me to MS Paint it? Oh, here you go:

It would look much better if Brett were wearing all black. And if had freaky eyes, instead of his warm, soft ones and disarming smile. I guess you can't have everything.

I suggest you view all photos that Noko Jeans has posted on Flickr because they're all SO GOOD. Settling on one to post here was what I imagine it would be like to pick your favorite amongst multiple children. What say ye, RoSA Readers? Vote for your favorite Noko'er in the comments. It'll be a nice poll.

Also, two random, unsolicited items for your enlightenment:

1. I have a noticeable cut just above my right eyeball along with some redness and swelling. I may have been in a bar on Saturday night, and may have called a Yale alum a "sweater-tying yuppie nobody", and he may have punched me with his enormous class ring. Or, I probably smacked myself in the eye with my ping-pong paddle because I was following through a little too much. I did put some wicked spin on that ball.
2. Luke Wilson, star of hit movies such as My Super Ex-Girlfriend and Legally Blonde 2: Red, White & Blonde, was in my dream last night, asking me to help finance his next movie, and saying that he would make me a good return on my money. That's like PETA asking me to make a donation and promising that they won't make obscene advertisements with my money. It's just not going to happen. And why Luke Wilson? It's got to be those stupid AT&T commercials.

Happy Monday to you.

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Butt Rock or Not -- ROUND 2

Well, due to the popularity of the last Reader's Vote to determine if someone's t-shirt/overall appearance is "butt rock or not," I give you the Kiss fan I met at a Halloween Party:

(Remember, 1 is completely devoid of butt rockness, 10 is Poison-esque.)

I'm not going to let you know where my opinion lies on the issue -- all I'm going to say is that purchasing 8-inch platform shoes from the Kiss museum, wearing them, AND being semi-mobile in them for an entire night at a dance party is impressive in its own right. He had done his homework, too -- he was telling me all of the details about the Kiss concert he had recently attended. Hilarious.

Saw the kid almost take a tumble, though. Like watching one of those stilt-walking clowns fall. It all happened in slow motion.

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More Perm Photos -- Photo(s) of the Week 10 Aug 2009

Well, many of you asked for more details/photos on the permed hair. Anne M posted some photos on Facebook:


Since this took place about three weeks ago, the hair continues to grow in volume, autonomy, and epicness (don't argue -- it's a word). I'm not talking Trojan War epic, but on my own personal epic scale it ranks somewhere between beating Midge at Speed Scrabble and that one time I was in the middle school jazz band and had a saxophone solo.

People ask me what I "do" with the hair -- I'm assuming they are asking how I style it, and not wondering if I spend hours planning hair-centric activities -- and the answer is nothing. Since the perm, I'm now honestly convinced that my hair has become self-aware. It just does whatever the hell it wants, and I have to acquiesce and learn to live with it. It's wearing the pants.

It is also a Kobe Bryant-like polarizing figure, having caused an irreconcilable splintering of my friends into two camps: There are those who embrace it and lobby for its continued existence, while there are those who want to go all Delilah on it and shear me like a sheep. Hopefully the hair doesn't continue the Kobe-trend and end up getting accused of rape in Colorado or being a selfish player who scowls at his teammates.

Powered by Perm®, people.




Happy Monday. My shoulder's sore after a full Saturday of intense wiffle ball.

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Kitchenette Run-ins, Fashion Discussions

We have a kitchenette at work that I was practically running through last week (my new job is what I would call "demanding") when I almost turned a co-worker into roadkill. We'll call her Carrie. Carrie is the mother of young children, very nice, and most relevantly to this narrative, never sarcastic. So I know that what she was saying to me was sincere.

C: Oh, Josh, hi! I've been meaning to ask you about your hair.
JD (internal): Oh crap. Oh no.
JD: Um, yeah...what about it?
C: Did you style it differently?
JD (internal): Lie, dammit-- Lie! Say the humid summer is wreaking havoc on your hair! That's what girls do! Say it!
JD: Um, yeah. I, uh, So I... got a perm...
JD (internal): Idiot.

(At this point in the conversation I realized that the kitchenette is central to a dozen or so cubicles occupied by coworkers that I see every day. And that they've likely heard that I permed my hair. So I feel like I have to explain -- in a noticeably louder voice so all can hear -- the circumstances of my getting a perm.)

JD: ...I did it as part of a bet with a friend -- this is not something I would ever do on my own.
C: Well, I think it looks good.
JD (internal): She's messing with you! There's no way you look good. You look stupid, and you know it!
JD: Well, that's nice of you to say, Carrie. But really, you don't have to lie. I realize it looks pretty ridiculous.
C: Where did you get it done? I've been thinking about doing a perm myself.
JD: I, uh...my friend just bought a box of stuff from the store.

It's a bad sign for me when women are asking me for fashion-related advice. Almost apocalyptic.

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The Perm -- Photo of the Week 13 July 2009

This week's is a doozy. The wager finally came to fruition.


The reactions have ranged all across the spectrum: Lots of doubletakes (myself in the mirror in the morning; everybody at church); extreme dread and anxiety, like a parent sending their child to their first day of school (AM before seeing the perm); semi-relief and a "it's not as bad as it could have been" (AM after seeing the perm); incapable of looking at me without laughing uncontrollably (Midge); rending of clothing, refusal to be comforted, and desperate beseeching to PLEASE cut my hair ('manders); disappointed headshaking, like I had been convicted and sentenced to do 10-15 in the State Pen (Josh M); backhanded comment about no longer possessing self-respect (DJA); "John Lennon called...he wants his hair back...No, seriously though: Get a haircut." (Banker); being told I should host a Japanese game show (Chunk). That's just the tip of the iceberg.

I'll tell you the worst part, though. My hair reeked like moldy butt. Seriously.

Anyway, I considered growing a mustache and going for an Adam Morrison-type look, but I would have needed to be ten times uglier, twenty times creepier, and willing to flush my social life down the drain. I still can't believe this guy has an NBA championship ring:



Happy Monday, everyone. Be grateful your coworkers have at least an ounce of respect for you. Mine may have at some point. But won't. Ever.

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Butt Rock or Not

Remember the website "Hot or Not?" And how everyone placed their friends' pictures up so that that friend could either become an insufferable narcissist when they got scores of 9 or 10, or have their self-esteem crushed and then enter a downward spiral of Kurt Cobain-like depression (anything from a score of 5-down)?

Well, this has nothing to do with it. This is about you applying the BR education I have imparted to you in various mind-numbing posts. Now is the time to step forward and voice your opinion. What say ye of the Mighty Zep? State your evidence, and rank this shirt on a scale of 1-10 (1 being BR-free, 10 being Poison):


Photo courtesy of JT. Thanks to Erik, JT's summer intern, for not only sporting the shirt, but also for striking a pose that would normally be attributable to a flasher, a knock-off watch salesman, or a man toting a sawed-off shotgun.

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The Chuck Norris/Perm Wager -- Photo of the Week 1 Jun 2009

OK, this is a picture of me ensuring that I am not struck by a frisbee, obviously taking special care to protect my manhood. This is part of a frisbee game one of my work buddies invented, and is quite hilarious to play. This isn't the reason I'm posting this.

Take a look at the shirt JH/FH got me for my birthday last year. Sometime a while back, Anne M. -- who is always quite fashionable and well-dressed -- and I made a bet that if she wore this t-shirt with a skirt to church one Sunday, I would grow my hair out and allow her to perm it.

That time is fast approaching; I haven't cut my hair in five months, and the length is getting to where I need it to be. I still fear for how my straight Asian hair is going to handle the perm. Seeing Anne with "Chuck Norris Approved" on her will be worth it.


Happy Monday, everyone. I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted.

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My Guilt-trip to You, the Reader

A lot of companies have a pledge to their customers that they will provide a quality product, or they will do their best to keep the customer happy, or some other nonsense. This is not one of those. This is to make you appreciate more of what I do for you day-in and day-out.

Dear RoSA Readers,

As I stood in line at Chipotle the other day, deciding on whether I wanted a Barbacoa or a Carnitas burrito, I glanced down at the Judas Priest concert t-shirt I was wearing and thought to myself: "What the hell was I thinking when I put this thing on before I went out into public?"

Tracing back my thought processes, I think I tried to justify the decision by saying that it was hot outside, and that the butt rock t-shirt was so tissue paper-thin it was like I wasn't even putting another layer of clothing on. It would keep me cool.

The more I thought about how stupid that reason was, I realized the real reason I had done it: I had no blog-worthy material that week, and was sub-consciously hoping that wearing Judas Priest in a public place would serve as a catalyst for something interesting.

(Yes. You're reading that correctly)

As it turned out, nothing happened. I've never been so disappointed with the expectations of an idea that has such great potential, but that ultimately ends up being a colossal letdown (perhaps with the exception of the Wolverine movie). I was hoping for something from my fellow Chipotle'ers: Suspicious glares; a hurled insult; extra meat in my burrito because the employees think I'm homeless based on appearance. The best would have been jaws dropped aghast in shock -- a la Arnold walking into the bar butt naked in Terminator 2 (see below). But really, I would have taken anything.





Shoot, even a brawl with some angry bikers who didn't like Judas Priest when they were growing up would have made a great story...you know, after I got out of the hospital.

Nothing.

Like I said. You'd better appreciate what I do for you, readers.

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Average Homeboy

Brother-in-law Ben sent this to me a while back. Only a I've-been-standing-in-line-for-hours-screaming-giddily-for-the-Twilight-movie-opening caliber lapse of judgement stopped me from posting it earlier. I don't know what I was thinking.

One word. Three syllables. A-MA-ZING:



Some comments from friends/family so far:

I can't believe I just spent 4 and a half minutes watching that. Unbelievable mullet...I really don't know what to say...

i just got blazed, and I loved it.

I couldn't finish it. it makes me feel bad for being alive

I like to go out and shoot some hoops
but not before I eat my fruit loops

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The Complete Idiot's Guide to Identifying Butt Rock

Readers and friends often ask me: "What exactly is 'butt rock?' And if it is the musical equivalent of the Black Plague, as you claim, why do you keep bringing it up? That's just stupid."

First off, calm down. Insults are hurtful.

Second, you know the reason I bring it up is because back in high school I found some old butt rock concert t-shirts at Goodwill and started collecting them. Why the butt rock fixation when I know it sucks? Not quite sure on that one. I guess my counter to that question is: "What the hell is wrong with Mike Tyson?" See, both are good questions, but ones that we may never know the answers to.

Regardless, as a result of the strange draw that Butt Rock (BR) has on me, I have acquired some knowledge about the genre over the years and wish to impart it. Let's get down to the nitty gritty.

BR (aka "glam rock" "hair metal") was a musical product of the 80's -- and if the 80's were the modern Dark Age of movies, fashion, and music, then BR was indeed the accompanying Black Plague. Much like the Black Plague that scourged Europe in the 1300s, BR was the omnipresent scourge of its time; both nearly toppled western civilization; both thrived in unsanitary conditions; both had lasting, detrimental effects years after their peak -- and lastly, the prospect of either returning in a newly mutated form is terrifying enough to be a Stephen King novel.

Let me first list what is not needed in BR:

1. Musical talent
2. Good looks
3. Intelligence
4. Shame
5. Dignity

Still with me? Good.

Now, to the must haves.

Everything that is BR can be illustrated with a good BR concert t-shirt. I have one of the best:

This shirt tells us a lot about BR. First, you need a stupid band name, like Judas Priest, Def Leppard, Cinderella, Quiet Riot, Whitesnake, etc. Big hair and leather are absolute musts. I cannot emphasize this enough: BR without big hair and lots of leather is like Tony Stark without his Ironman suit. And when I say lots of leather, I'm talking the band should be wearing the equivalent of at least 50-60 entire cows' hides worth of leather. Songs about women and struggles with drug/alcohol addiction are essential -- as is the occasional "power ballad" to show the groupies that the band has a sensitive side.

What else? Let's flip that concert t-shirt over for more clues:

Need I say more?

I should teach a Music History class.

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A Vacation From Myself

You need to watch this clip in order to understand the title of this entry:



About three weeks ago, my friend Josh M and I were discussing facial hair, and lamenting the fact that our half-Japaneseness left us severely handicapped in our ability to grow any sort of respectable beard, goatie, etc.

Long story short, we decided to have a mustache-growing contest -- just for the hell of it. I think we settled on mustaches because: 1) the sparseness of Josh's facial hair wouldn't allow him to grow a beard of any sort; 2) we are both huge Tom Selleck and Burt Reynolds fans; and 3) neither of us had filled our mistaken-for-someone-caught-on-Dateline's "How to Catch a Predator" quota for the year.

In essence, we needed "a vacation from ourselves."

(No, this was not one of those "I was restricted by the Honor Code at BYU from growing facial hair so now I am going to exercise my individuality by growing facial hair" decisions)

Needless to say, it was a hard, lonely road that we walked. Remember in Field of Dreams where Ray initially builds the baseball field and everyone thinks it's a joke, but then they realize how serious it actually is when he can't make the mortgage, and accuse him of being crazy? This was something like that. People joked during the first week, then realized that we were actually trying to grow them.

Here are the sad, pathetic results:

(Josh M - Took the Creepiness Prize)


(Me)



By Week 2 1/2, the growth of both of our faux-staches'* plateaued. In one last ditch effort to accentuate his, other Josh bought some "Just for Men" and tried to dye what he claims were "tons of blond hairs" in order to make it look thicker. A "game-changer," as one of my friends put it. Unfortunately, I have no pictures of his dyed upper lip.

The stats under what I came to term the "Faux-stache Era":
0 - Phone numbers received by women
18 - "What the hell is that??"s
8 of 10 - # of people capable of looking me in the eye during a normal conversation
3 - Number of neighborhood watch lists I was placed on
1 - Pulled over by a cop and asked way more questions than I should have been for, in his words, "no observed erratic driving behavior"

I shaved it on Sunday -- thank goodness it's over. A burden has been lifted.

*I use "faux-stache" because there's no way it could be considered a real one. Also, much like the faux-hawk, it wouldn't surprise me if a bunch of guys living at Belmont Condos in Provo started growing a faux-stache; not because it actually looks good, but because they saw some Abercrombie ad-guy with one.

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More From the Beasties

We're all familiar with the term and fashion abomination that is the mullet. I won't delve into why we abhor this haircut, because websites -- as well as books and doctoral dissertations, I'm sure -- have been dedicated to the topic. Needless to say, my simple reasoning is that we don't like ugly, and mullets are ugly. Hence, we don't like mullets.

Anyway, according to an article in the Seattle Times that cites the Oxford English Dictionary, the Beasties made the term "mullet" popular by ripping on the haircut in the 1994 song "Mullet Head" and also penning an article about it in their label's magazine, Grand Royal, called "Mulling Over the Mullet."

I can't speak to the authoritativeness of the Oxford English Dictionary (really, who compiled this thing -- PhDs? "scholars"??), but if they're willing to attribute a modern cultural reference to the Beastie Boys, their credibility goes up in my eyes.

...And my odd fascination with the B-Boys continues...

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Dream Team -- Photo of the Week 25 Aug 2008

Title: "The Original Dream Team"
Year: 1991-1992?

This was my absolute favorite t-shirt in 4th or 5th grade: The 1992 "Dream Team," the very first time the US was allowed to field professional athletes in the games. If you overlook the fact that Malone and Stockton played for the Jazz, Ewing was overrated his entire career, Pippen was a wife-beater, and Magic was forced to retire because he acquired an STD (due to his Wilt Chamberlain-like off-the-court escapades),¹ these guys were exciting to watch, killing teams by 60+ points.

Just felt like posting this one because of the Olympics just ending, and us taking gold for the first time since 2000. Go USA!

Maybe I should start buying and collecting more of these caricature shirts. I had Magic Johnson, Shaq, and Steve Largent ones growing up.

1 - The players on this year's "Redeem Team" that filled the same roles: Williams and Boozer on the Jazz, Anthony has been overrated his entire career so far, Kidd as the wife-beater. There was no equivalent to Magic...yet.

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Simple Steps to Great Anime Hair

Sitting in the grocery store, you're almost forced to read the magazines / tabloids because apparently the checkers are all secretly taking part in some sort of competition in which they try to get the most people to leave their line because they are moving so slowly. The majority of the magazines at grocery store checkout stands have covers that read "10 simple steps to great skin!", "5 Easy Ways to Bail Out of Relationship You Don't Want to Be In", or "Great Abs in 8 Days" (the answer to which, at least partially, is do not buy the Snickers bar directly underneath the magazine), or some other such title.

After my obviously frustrating trip to the grocery store today, I picked up some friends from the airport, and when I stepped out of the car, one of them -- who definitely isn't even into this -- said: "Holy crap. You look like one of those anime characters. That's awesome!"

Those two experiences today, coupled with my voiced disdain for JapAnime, are the basis for this entry. I'll admit that whether I like anime or not, the glimpses I've seen of the characters' hair are pretty sweet.

Backtracking the steps that culminated into my hair attaining such unbridled awesomeness, I decided to make the only blog entry in which I disperse fashion advice, knowing full well that there is a less than 1% chance anyone will do this. I call it 7 Simple Steps to great anime hair. Why 7? Probably because it's all I could come up with:

1) Be part-Asian, or at least of an ethnicity that inclines you to having hair that is thick, straight, and doesn't like to move once it's set.
1a) Clarifying the meaning of 'part', this would mean at least 1/4 Asian. Anything less than this, and you can forget about it: You were born a generation too late and should proceed to blame your parents for not marrying into more diversity.
1b) If you are not of Asian descent but have similar hair, you are at a decided disadvantage because even if you go through with the steps and get the hair right, pulling off the entire anime look is going to be much more tough. This is not racial. It is fact.

2) Don't cut your hair for at least three months.

3) I know you're probably guessing "lots of gel." This is only partially true. Your 'gel' has to be so sticky that it is categorized as a borderline adhesive, and can be found in both the Home Repair and Hair Products Departments of the store.

4) The gel needs to have sat overnight, meaning you applied it after you took a shower yesterday morning.

5) Instead of taking your normal morning shower, go and play a sport that requires a lot of running:
5a) preferably soccer;
5b) preferably for at least an hour and a half;
5c) preferably in 90% humidity so that you are drenched with sweat.

6) Be occupied with running errands after playing the sport from (5) that you can't take a shower immediately after.

7) Take useless pictures of your hair and make a blog entry about it.

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