People often look at me and are like, “Whoa, that girl’s crazy!” Um, yeah! Sorry, but I was born with curly hair.
Look around you at any curly-haired person you know. They’re wacky and zany, right? We just can’t help it – our hair makes little round circles instead of straight lines. The curly or overall floofiness works its way right down into our zany scalps and into our kooky brains, causing us to be totally spontaneous! It’s the most important part of who we are!
Most people don’t understand just how unpredictable my curly hair makes me on a day-to-day basis. Sometimes I wanna boogie to my iPod in the grocery store. Right there in the grocery store! Other times, I wanna have a flour fight in the kitchen. Then, before I know it, I’m looking at someone and telling it like it is. That’s just a day in my #curlylife!
There are other times when I look at my straight-laced, straight-haired friends and think, “It must be nice to be so together.” But then I think, “What can you do? You just gotta shake what your mama gave you!” And my crazy mother gave me her curly hair and insane personality, so I’m shaking my hair around like a tiny animal on cocaine.
Last night I lit my eyebrows on fire on a dare. This is just the life of a curly-haired girl. Did I mention I’m blonde? I basically won the crazy person lottery and there’s not a GD thing I can do about it.
Oh my God, hang on, I’m getting a spontaneous urge: I wanna slam my face in a pie right now! Is that weird? Yeah, of course it is. I’m a crazy, curly-headed motherfucker and everything I say is straight-up nutso.
I took ballroom dancing classes in the Phillipines. I had to stow away on an oil tanker to get there. The whole thing was just a crazy dream I had and pursued. Craziness. Can you imagine? I can.
People often ask me if I’d had a perm. Uh, nope! I don’t need any help in the crazy department, thank you. “Curly don’t need whirly,” as I always say. If I’m not making any sense here, just chalk it up to the hair.
Don’t expect some high-minded dissertation from me. I’m the girl you call when you wanna skip town and try selling drugs in Ottawa for a summer, which I highly recommend by the way. It’s so random but crazy in a good way.
Have I mentioned my freckles? Shit is cray.
I carry a pan flute with me everywhere I go. I don’t even know how to play it. Sometimes I stick it in my hair like a bone. God, I wish we were still wearing bones in our hair. I would’ve made a good cavewoman. I’m just that fucking crazy and wild.
Did you ever eat a spider web? I have. They’re spicy, like me.
The thing I’m really trying to get across here is that I can’t control my nature. The behavior of a person is only as controllable as there hair and mine’s a messy pile of fluff. I can’t wear a ponytail because my hand ends up getting stuck in my hair and then I need to pour bacon grease all over it all just so I can back to my usual shenanigans which often requires some whacky uses for my hand.
If you even need to ask the question: Yes, I’m curly, so yes, I’m motherfucking crazy. Deal with it.
