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December 16, 2009

The Restoration - Part I

My mantra for the majority of my life has been constant:


At age 6 I quit picking my nose.

At age 12 I quit on my dream of playing for the Jazz.

At age 22 I quit believeing I could date Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

I'm known for surrendering. Yielding. Raising the white flag. Being pushed over.

That was then. This is now. Today I fight back.

My hair is dieing - it has been for some time now. No hair, of course, equals no good. It means no girl. It means no friends. It means no job (Desnews). As my hair falls to the ground, my hopes of all happiness go with it. Until recently, I had accepted this fact. I'd given in to genetics. Why fight it? Without marriage I could still make the terrestrial kingdom, right? Worse things could happen. Plus, I had already based my life actions on the example of George Costanza. Why not adopt his most recognizable feature as well? And yet ...

And yet each time I restocked on toothpaste or deoderant, a rouge hygiene product would grab my eyes:

Rogaine, the magic hair restorer.

Fifty bucks was too pricey an investment for me. After all, I had a girlfriend. If things got worse, I could just get married and deteriorate with exaltation ensured. I chose to leave things in nature's hands.

Bad choice. The girlfriend left. The landscape worsened. The mocking increased. Whisps, alone, remained of a once proud scalp. And then a change happened. Not with my hair, but with my mentality. Something snapped. I became sick of surrendering. It was time to quit quitting. I decided to fight back. Knowing that my hair was my livelihood, I purchased the restorer.

The danger is great. Rogaine claims to regrow hair by killing off the current stragglers to make room for new hairs to take their place. Thus in a worst case scenario, my few remainers are killed off and no regrowth occurs.


Well, here goes nothing.

Er, I mean, here goes everything.


  1. Spencer, you would not have to worry about your hair if you came and worked at the tax commission. The cubical would keep you protected from people looking at you and the people that would see you would not care. Your other option is making it big with fantasy football and we both know that that will not work.

  2. I was really counting on you coming back to work here, I had a pile of yuckie accounts for you to write up. What kind of friend are you??? Steve won't even write them up, so I guess its up to me to do my own job. Steve wrote the above comment, but just for the record, I did care, until you decided not to come back to work!!!!
    About your hair, you could always wear a wig.