Nice Hair

Ok folks, here is the article that I wrote for this weeks CinWeekly. Pick up a copy for yourself because they are free. This is also on their blog so if you would like to comment on it there too here is the link. http://archive.cinweekly.com/blog/2008/01/nice-hair.asp


I'm getting a haircut.

Yes, I am well aware that this is generally only a big event for very small children. "The first haircut," as it's known - mothers gingerly taping locks of their baby's hair into a scrapbook for the world to see. I am not an infant, but I am confident that your keen intellect has already alerted you to this fact. I haven't frequented a crib for somewhere in the range of 24 years.

Why, then, is this particular haircut such a big deal? Well, for one thing, I have never had a haircut that I liked. I'm sure you can relate. Secondly and more importantly, though, I haven't had a haircut in over seven years, and yes, I'm a guy. I'm a guy with hair down to his butt, a throwback to the '60s.

People have come to identify me by my flowing blond locks. "Do you know Dan? You know Dan, the guy with the long hair." "Ah yes, that Dan, the Dan with long hair" they would retort. My hair was my identifying characteristic, my trademark. How, then, will people describe me after my ponytail has been detached from my head? Will people stutter for lack of adjectives in describing me? I imagine that there will be a period of time where they will refer to me as the guy who used to have long hair, but then what? After all, I am the man who once pulled a Mazda MX3 using only his hair. Is that normal? No. Is it memorable? Yes. People remember me. People remember my hair.

"Nice hair," many a stranger has remarked. The young women would wish that they possessed my tresses, and the old men recalled when they did. "I remember when my hair was long like that," they would comment, a dreamy look in their eyes as they disappeared into the past. Occasionally, a random pedestrian would even venture to cop a feel - a 24-inch, blond hair feel.

Now, I'm not saying that having long hair doesn't have its pitfalls, because it does. If I had a quarter for every time I was told to "Get a haircut," I would be a hundredaire. (For those of you doing the math in your heads, that equals 400 times.) Drying my hair would take hours, and have you ever gotten your hair tangled in barbed wire? Let's just say that it's not a pleasant experience. And let us not forget the Locks of Love Gestapo. "You should cut your hair and donate it," over and over again they would prod.

That being said, I am getting a haircut, and I am not donating it to anyone. Being the entrepreneur that I am, I have decided to sell my Rapunzelesque hair. Don't worry, though, the money will be going to charity. Soon and very soon, my hair will be gone, but hopefully my identity will stay. RIP my hair, my beautiful, beautiful, hair.

Dan Thoms is a graphic designer who lives down by the river in Sedamsville. He enjoys long walks on the beach, shampooing his hair and having fun with all of his friends at the Vineyard West Side.

I have decided to advocate the use of my name, Dan, as an adjective. For those of you who are far removed from the toils of grade school grammar, an adjective is any word that describes a noun. And for those of you who are even further removed, a noun is a person place or thing. I looked into getting my name into the dictionary but as it turns out this is quite a lengthy process. The first step however is the circulation of the word into printed media. Here are a few sudgestions for the use of the word Dan. If you have your own definition that you would like to submit, feel free.



Possible Usages
Dan ..--dan.. adj [Hebrew D--n]
Inflected Form(s): Danly; Danner; Danning

1. characterized by entailing little expense, frugal, money well spent
That coat was a dan good deal.

2. favorably disposed; in a kind manner; with sympathetic or helpful kindness
Thanks for helping me with my homework. That was very dan of you.

3. having an attractive, well-proportioned, and imposing appearance; good-looking
That is one nice t-shirt. Your looking very dan today.

Rejected Usages
Dan ..--dan.. adj [Hebrew D--n]
Inflected Form(s): Danly; Danner; Danning

1. having a gaunt, wasted, or exhausted appearance, as from prolonged suffering, exertion, or anxiety; haggard
Having gotten only two hours of sleep, Joe woke up looking very dan.

2. having qualities traditionally ascribed to women
My, don't you look dan today with your new scarf

3. to collect, save, or hoard useless items
Look at all this junk. Your really danning this place up.

Seventeen Magazine

598 Cute New Looks, Get Irresistible Lips and Feeling Fat? Thats right folks, I am a subscriber to Seventeen magazine. Now, I must confess, I did not purposely subscribe to this fine publication. I was filling out an online form to enter some random drawing and then it just happened. Congratulations, you have just subscribed to Seventeen magazine. I remember mumbling to myself, "What? Oh no. How did this happen." Maybe its just me but I'm pretty sure that I don't fit within this magazines targeted demographic.

The magazine does have a few things going for it though. For on thing the cover is so bright that it could possibly cause seizures. It sure does smell a lot nicer than the last issue of Popular Mechanics, I believe its the Vera Wang Princess perfume. And, on top of all that, this issue also contains an offer for free undies, something I've never seen in competing publications like National Geographic.

Now I haven't read this magazine cover to cover as of yet but here are a few of the highlights. The cover says that there is an article inside called "Shocking Ways You Could Get Pregnant By Accident." Wow, I'm pretty sure that I could write that article. It would go something like this, "Having sex could get you pregnant, don't have sex your only seventeen." Ok so as it turns out that if I want perfect lips I need to buy some Victoria's Secret Beauty Rush Lip Gloss Cherry Bomb. I had no idea. I don't even if I could remember that whole name to ask for it. Did you know that lipstick comes is 6 different shapes, intriguing. Oh, and did you know that the truth about college guys is that they are more interesting, they booty call, and that they respect your brain. They respect your brain? That is news, when did that happen? Ok, so scarfs are in, Zac Efron is hot, sexy hair requires a curling iron, 81% of guys say they have never forgotten their girlfriends birthday, and its good to wear a different kind of bra on Saturday night than you wear on Sunday. Ok, I need to put this magazine away before someone at work sees me reading it. Note to self, cancel subscription to Seventeen magazine.

Its Cold Outside

Its Cold Outside

It was cold out this morning, 19 degrees to be exact. This, however, was not of much concern to me. I had warmed up my car and it was as toasty as a smore. I was nice and warm but that didn't last too long. I could feel my car pulling left as I drove down my street and after about a mile I came to a brilliant discovery, I had a flat. As it turns out my spare tire was also flatter than Frankensteins head and thus began my journey. I didn't have any gloves and the spare tire was as cold as ice. I trekked the mile back to my house to call work to tell them I would be late and then preceded to the gas station, another 1/2 mile away. I had attempted thumbing a ride the entire time but everyone was in too much of a hurry to help me. I filled my spare and headed back. One guy honked at me.* Another gentleman, however, was a little more gracious and gave me a much needed ride. Granted this story doesn't have a surprise ending or even too much content but I just wanted everyone to know that my fingers are still sore and so is my neck and back. The tips of my toes are still cold and my hair is a mess. THE END

* If I find out that one of my friends was the one who honked after seeing me walking in below freezing temperatures with a spare tire on my shoulder than that friend shall be punished.

House Trek a Video Blog

On Saturday Johanna and I went on a quest. Our quest was simple. We were going to visit every place that either she or I had ever lived in Cincinnati. This is the video of that quest.

Selling my Hair January 13, 2008

Well folks, after 7 years of no hair cuts, I have decided to sell my hair. I like to change things up every once in a while and this will be a huge change. I just hope everyone will still be able to recognize me with my sexy new cut. I know that a lot of you are wondering why I am not donating my hair to Locks of Love. I'll let you read up on them yourself if you like. Basically though, they sell most of the hair and don't make many wigs (http://www.squidoo.com/locksoflove). I will be donating all of the money from the sale of my hair to a charitable cause.

Now, what hair cut shall I get. I truthfully don't know. I will only be cutting off my ponytail so I will still have a lot of hair to work with. Have any ideas, post a picture. Most likely it will be a longer hair due though. When will this hair cut take place? I don't know, I guess we shall have to wait to see who buys the hair. It starts at $200

Here is where my hair is for sale http://thehairtrader.com/viewlisting.asp?lid=247441

Glance at Dans Brain

- If I had alzheimer's I would put a $10 bill in everyone of my pants pockets. Its exciting to find money.

- I don't understand olives. Why are they always stuffed with something. I think the first person to grow olives realize that they were nasty and stuffed them in hopes that people wouldn't notice.

- I saw a girl the other day who was wearing pink plaid pants and carrying a pink camo patterned purse. Does that match? They are both pink. I'm confused.

- If steak flavored dog food really taste like steak than why would I let the dog eat it.

- As I was taking down my Christmas lights last night a couple of girls walking down the street called me a pervert. I didn't realize that taking down Christmas lights makes you a pervert. Things sure have changed since I was a kid. Very confusing.

- Is it just me or does projectile vomiting sound like an Olympic sport.

- If your in a store looking at a cookbook and you see a recipe that you like but don't want to buy the book, take a digital picture of it. I'm not saying that anyone that I know has ever done this, but if they did it would work.

- Is it strange to take a to go plate from a funeral? I was too full to eat dessert but I still wanted to eat some cookies.

- I bought a gallon of ice cream last week. It was multi colored, on sale, and called Superman ice cream. My deep freeze went out and it all melted. Superman ice cream? Yea, whatever.

14 is too Young to Die January 06, 2008

14 is too young to die, way, way too young. I didn't watch the news last night. If I would have though, I would have already known that one of my kids is now with the Lord. Greg was in my Sunday school class. He was one of my kids, one of the kids that I lived for. I pored my heart and soul into them. I loved them and knew that they could change the world. They all had plenty of time to do that too since they were all so young. Plenty of time? You always imagine that there is plenty of time. 14 is too young to die. He was skateboarding and ran a stop sign and now he's gone. Just like that. I thought I would see him again, after all he lives in my neighborhood. I thought I would have another chance to give him a hug and to encourage him. Next time I see him he will be in a child sized coffin being mourned my his friends and family. I know that there is till the afterlife but 14 is too young to die. Pray for his family.

To ad to this blog. This morning, when I was getting ready for church, I pulled a random shirt out of the clean laundry. I was going to pick a different one but then felt like I should, for some unknown reason, wear this one. I didn't think about it the rest of the day until about 30 minutes ago. I was walking when I looked down at my shirt and saw these words, "Death is not the end! it's the beginning."

PG-13

First off, this blog is not about porn so hang with me here. Are you against pornography? You probably are, I know that I am anti-porn. Pornography takes women and turns them into objects. They cease to be people made in the image of God and instead become a means to satisfy primal, sinful, urges. They become a piece of meat. I'm sure that you would agree with my saying that that is wrong. Since we can both agree on that, lets shift gears a bit into everyones favorite subject, music. Because I lack knowledge in the area of todays popular music I will just focus on one artist, Soulja Boy. If you like Soulja Boy, don't stop reading in an effort to avoid the impending sense of guilt that you know will follow the reading of this blog. With songs with names like "Booty Meat" its not hard to see how DeAndre Way (Soulja Boy) views women. Its hard to be more blatantly disrespectful to women than to refer to them as Booty Meat. My favorite song by Mr. Way, however, would have to be Crank That Soulja Boy. Crank That Soulja Boy has a snappy beat and a dance to go along with it. How could a song with such great redeeming qualities be anything but innocent? I've seen many a 8 year old who knows the dance. I guess its too bad that its lyrics include lines like "Then I'm Cocking On Your B***h," "I'm Jocking On Yo B***h A**"and of course the classic line, "Superman Dat Hoe." Those songs share that same view on women as any porn magazine. Women are meat. Are you anti-porn but pro Soulja Boy? Can someone say hypocrite?

Under the Bridge

Boxcar Billy and Dogs and Wolfs, a crudely spray painted memorial under the viaduct. They tell me that Boxcar Billy froze to death last winter. It was cold out today too. I soon wished that I had worn a heavier coat. I had followed a group of church folks as they caravaned to an obscure space just outside of the city. Down the dead end street, past the meat shop, over the gravel and mud, through the flood gate and under the bridge. Their camp over looked the railroad tracks. As I gazed downward, I was told that Jeff had caught his leg in those very tracks just last week. He was still in the hospital, he lost both his legs. Thankfully he somehow avoided having need of his own spray painted sepulcher. There was a lot of spray paint. Elie read one of the many slogans tagged on the concrete walls. Her sister was quick to tell on her. It was bad word but at least she was reading. Someone brought out the turkey. It was still nice and hot. There was plenty of food so I'm glad that I didn't eat lunch. We stood around the fire warming our hands, eating, talking, and listing to the game on a tiny battery powered radio. I didn't know most of the people there and for a moment, an unusual moment, I couldn't figure out who was with the church and who was homeless. They were all people, the kind that God loves , complete with addictions, hang ups, flaws and failures. They were people, beautiful people.

The Email (whats wrong with it?)

There are many problems plaguing the world of internet messaging. There are of course your everyday perverts, stalkers, and spammers. The most problematic issue associated with text based messaging systems, however, is the inability to hear fluctuations in a persons voice. Have you ever gotten a message from someone and then wandered if they were being facetious. The beautiful language of sarcasm is often lost in emails due to the lack of tone. Even though you meant your statement of, "Wow, nice picture." to be an insult they in turn took it as a compliment because the inability to discern the fluctuations in your voice. Unfortunate misunderstandings like these happen everyday due to this serious issue. There are a few internet tools put into place in a lame attempt to nullify this problem. You have your standard lol to show laughter and there are the emoticons. These systems are juvenile and low tech. My proposition is this, 4 new keys on the standard keyboard. These keys will be Red, Blue, Green, and Purple. These will be toggle keys like ctrl, shift, and alt. Red will express anger, Blue sadness, Green sarcasm and Purple joy. Problem solved.

My Ever so Controversial Christmas Blog

"It was a let down. I was in second grade and had suspected there was a cover up for a while. The creepy thing was, I told my mother I knew there was no Santa and she got this peeved look in her eye and said, "Children who don't believe in Santa don't get Christmas gifts". I was stunned. So, I said, "I guess I believe then". With that bit of creepiness, I went on to pretend to believe in Santa for years. Strangest part is that she responded similarly when I stopped being Christian." - Yahoo Answers User Glee

I posed the following question on Yahoo Answers "Santa isn't Real - What was your initial reaction?". I had a combined 57 answers, some serious and some not so much. There were some who said it had no affect on them along with others who became upset because their parents had lied to them. The most disturbing of the answers though, were those who in turn doubted the existence of God. This may seem like a leap in logic to a lot of people but you must remember that we are dealing with children here. Here is a list of similarities that I came up with between believing in Santa and believing in God from a child perspective.

SANTA
If I don't believe in Santa I won't get presents.
GOD
If I don't believe in God I won't go to heaven

SANTA
I've never seen Santa give me presents
GOD
I've never seen God.

SANTA
Santa visit millions of houses in one night. You can't understand it but its true.
GOD
God is everywhere at once. You can't understand its true.

SANTA
People who tell children that Santa isn't real are bad people
GOD
People who tell children that God isn't real are bad people..

SANTA
My parents and friends told me that Santa was real and now I know that they weren't telling the truth.
GOD
My parents and friends told me that God was real but now I know that they weren't telling the truth.

Granted not every kid who is told about Santa grows up to doubt the existence of God. What you have to ask yourself though, putting the moral dilima of lying aside, is it worth it? Here is one more quick story from the answer board.


I can't remember how old I was (probably around 8). I remember I was obsessing about getting my Christmas list done so I could give it to Santa. I was trying to find good paper for it and I was probably annoying my parents to no end. I remember getting a slip of wrapping paper and announcing that I was about to write my list.

That's when my dad told me to come to him. He said that they made up Santa Clause and that he wasn't real. I was devastated. I really did believe in him with all my little heart. It felt like the magic of Christmas shattered before my very eyes. He said that all parents tell their kids the same story. I asked why they would do such a mean thing- to make them believe in something and then tell them it isn't true. He said that it was so parents could give gifts to their children without taking the credit for giving them. I understood that side of the arguement, but I was angry and heartbroken that parents would put their children through that. I asked him why he told me and he said it was because I was old enough to know.

After that, I didn't want to write my list. He told me to do it, though, and so like a good little girl I obeyed. However, the list seemed to be significantly less important to me that year.

It never occurred to me to question the existence of God right then and there, but I did wonder about it later. I mean, if they lied to me about one man doing miraculous things, why wouldn't a supernatural, all-seeing, all-knowing being be a lie as well?

I know it seems nothing, but I really did believe in Santa with every fiber of my being, and that experience was absolutely unforgettable. Since then, I have vowed never to tell my children about him- or at least I would say that it's just a story from the very beginning. Strangely enough, I haven't changed my mind all these years.