Born To Be Wild

Today a man with a full-on business-in-front-party-in-back mullet rode down my street on a unicycle. I wonder if it was an ironic mullet, or maybe mullets are the new look for young hipsters, or – and this is a distinct possibility – this man was holding onto his lost youth by wearing the hairstyle of his heyday. I didn’t get a good look at his face, so I could not ascertain his age to determine if the latter was the case. Of course, my hair therapist has told me that after a certain age its best to choose a classic hairstyle that works best for one’s hair type and flatters one’s face shape, and then stick with modifications to that basic style. Perhaps this man is following that wise advice, although I’m not sure that mullets can be considered “classic” nor “flattering” but to each his own, after all.

This reminds me of a professor I once took classes with, a brilliant man who always wore his hair in the shortish, feathered style of 1983. At some point this man’s hair will be hip and happening once again; perhaps it is already, I’m not really that with it.

I know I’m not really with it because I read this morning that last night the Video Music Awards were on, and I had no idea. Apparently there was some kind of scandal with Miley Cyrus who is not on Disney anymore, people. Quelle scandale! To be honest, I’m kind of surprised anyone was even watching the VMAs, given that Breaking Bad was on. There are only five episodes left! Why waste time watching the VMAs when you can curl up in the fetal position on the couch, clench your fists under your chin, and sweat profusely while having heart palpitations? At least, that’s what happens to me when I watch Breaking Bad. I’m not even sure that I LIKE that show, but I’m so addicted to it that I have to know what happens OMG I hope Walt gets destroyed completely. I was watching one of those Talking Bad recap shows, and the guest, who was the woman who plays Claire on Modern Family, said that she was really “rooting” for Walt and “hoping he gets away with it” which is pretty much the opposite of how I feel. He is a man who has destroyed myriad lives and is, essentially, Satan in meth-cook form. My husband gently suggested that I not get so worked up over what is, in fact, a fictional show. Honey, are you okay? You’re hyperventilating again.

I need to thank Heather and Andrea, dear readers, who let me know that my post about Hot Carl is once again relevant. The authorities are looking for the owner of the vehicle with the Hot Carl license plate because they are cracking down on lewd personalized plates. However, Hot Carl’s license plate is over fifteen years old, allegedly, and so there is every reason to believe that the owner is just a guy named Carl who has a high sense of self-worth. Whatever you do, do not look up what a Hot Carl is in the urban dictionary. You will be very, very sorry and despair for humanity. In any case, I haven’t seen Hot Carl’s vehicle for long time. Perhaps he’s fled the city, or at very least the neighbourhood, having heard what monstrosities people do in his name. Poor Hot Carl!

Other things happening around here: the boys performed solo karate demonstrations at the open house on Saturday, which made me Explosion Level Proud. The next thing will be possible sparring, which makes me Somewhat Nervous And Also Proud. Continuing the tradition of mildly strange things happening in my eclectic neighbourhood, I noticed the young man across the alley chatting with our 80 year old neighbour lady. The young man was wearing a t-shirt that said FUCK THE TIME on it, which made me wonder what, if anything, was the lady’s reaction. Did she notice? Did she care? Was she somewhat offended, or maybe amused? We may never know. I also discovered that my across-the-street neighbour is a veteran who served in Desert Storm, which made me feel immediately bad for giggling about his penchant for mowing the lawn in only giant sneakers and red cut-off sweatpants. However, the pinnacle of my week was going to the grocery store and seeing this fellow in the parking lot:

That is one bad-ass beagle.


  1. Listen, my husband is also a veteran of Desert Storm and he manages to be fully clothed while mowing the lawn, so neighbor guy does not get a break for that in my book.

    I am so tempted to look up Hot Carl in the Urban Dictionary but am afraid it will haunt me forever so am resisting the urge to become more hip be learning what that term means. Uncool and loving it, that’s me.

  2. Love the beagle. Not so crazy about the…erm — what is that? A motorcycle? A tricycle? A Big Wheel? A hog? A mobility scooter? Eh. Either way: that beagle can do better.

    I looked up Hot Carl. Now my brain hates me.

  3. swimmermom says

    Oh man. I really wish I had heeded your wise words and not looked up hot carl. Ggggaaaaahhhh gross! I am obviously super, super square because that sounds like the LAST thing that would be fun during sexytime. Or anytime, ever, under any circumstances, the end.

    I so, so agree with you about Breaking Bad. I kind of don’t even like the show either, yet I keep watching. I ALSO think Walt is awful and fully deserves to meet an unpleasant end (sorry Skyler and kids). I would even be okay with that happening sooner than later — I’m only on season 5 and I don’t really see the need for his ego-driven spiral of death and destruction to go on any longer. Yet I watch, because it is not over, and I need to know.

    • I guess I’m square too because if that ever was merely suggested to me as a sexytime act, I would have to file for divorce, change my name and identity, and start blogging as Girl in a Regular House with no gross people in it.

  4. Ok, so I had to look up hot Carl and I am soooooo sorry I did! My husband always makes fun of me because I never know these urban “terms”, but after that one, I would much rather live in my ignorant little world. Now I need to shower. Gross!

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