Christopher Walken has simply got to
stop going to SuperCuts.

I got up this morning and went to the bathroom, and as I walked in
I noticed my face in the mirror. I couldn't believe the way my hair
looked. The hair on the left side of my head (facing the mirror, so
it was actually the right side) was sticking out in something vaguely
resembling a flipper. On the right side (facing the mirror, so it was
actually the left side) the hair was sticking out en masse, pretty much
all the hair on that side forming a big…well, I don't know what to
call it, it was all just sticking out at a ninety degree angle from my
head. The hair on the top of my head was piled high into what looked
like a bird's nest. In the back, the hair was randomly poking out left
and right, or right and left.

I thought momentarily about going to get my camera to photograph this
bizarre hair phenomenon that had occurred. But then I realized that
there was no way in hell that I would want anybody to see my hair like
that anyway. Describing it is one thing. Seeing it is another.

Many years back, I remember waking up with strange-looking "morning
hair" such as I experienced this morning, only to see the expression
on my BFF Julie's face as she looked at my hair. She didn't say anything.
But then, she didn't have to. I saw it in the hesitant — and slightly
frightened — look in her eyes.

But this morning's hair was the craziest ever. It looked much worse than
Albert Einstein's hair ever did. It even looked wilder than the hairstyles
Christopher Walken sports in some of his movies. Yes, I think that I even
out-did Christopher Walken's hair, which is universally famous.

Luckily, the bizarre hair was fixed after a minute or so with the aid of
a brush.

Nevertheless, I think it's time for a haircut.

Later this afternoon I think I'll go down to Sunset Junction and have a
few ryes to try to recouperate from the damage done to my psyche by my
crazy morning hair. I'll be sure to wear a hat, just to make sure that
I don't suffer a relapse.