crazy bad news. can't even capitalize

Doggs,

Man. This was a gravestone of a day. A tombstone. I walked down the sidewalk of life, and a tombstone popped up outta the ground in front of me. Like the numbers in one of those old-timey cash registers. I got an ice cream, but I couldn't like it. I got a pistachio macaroon, but it was pretty dried out. I wanted to want spaghetti bolognese, but I knew that wouldn't help me. I had to deal.

Here's the story. I was in Thaddeus's chair. My guy. My hairstylist extraordinaire. So we start the 'do, and he's kind of stiff the whole time, kind of distant, and when he spins me around with the mirror so I can approve the back of my new haircut, I see it plain as day. I got a damn bald spot the size of a damn dime. I'm straight-up monk dimin'.

Maybe you didn't hear me. I'm monk dimin'.

My thoughts are crazy.

I'm like, "This ain't nothin'. I can comb it here and there, the spot's small, I can cover it no problem." But that's denial.

Then I'm like, "I'll shave my whole head. That's the obvious thing." But that's over-reaction.

After that comes the appeal to science. "I'll get some 'a that Rogaine," you think. But you read the warnings on the side of the box and you quickly learn that it has hella dubious side effects:

1. You won't remember math (not a deal breaker)

2. You can no longer smell artichokes (I love artichokes)

3. Nine out of ten men experienced aggressive hair loss after using this product, including on people they were merely shaking hands with

Also, I can't imagine hair pluggin', doggs. I mean, if you pluggin', you always chasin' the border from the inside out, you know. Plus, I've seen lots of pluggin' photos on the internet, and the hair plugs are spaced so far apart they look like buck teeth...they look like buck hair. So obvious.

I'm sorry, this was way too personal. I got to regroup. Some of the guys at the club are monk dimin' or worse, so I'll work it in at some 19th hole and see what the done thing is.