I’d bet that if I imbibed alcohol, scotch would be my pick of poison.  Alas, I am not (yet) a gambler, or (yet) consumer of alcohol. But everyone has a vice (as they should), and polar bears and I happen to share the same beverage of choice: Coca-Cola.  It’s not something I keep on hand around the house, because I can’t.  Not for lack of trying.  If there is coke to be found in the house, I will consume it. This makes keeping it around the house an impossible task (even for someone whose restraint is as finely-tuned as my own).

Recently however another fluid has been filling the hole in my heart, and it was least expected (is this how it always works?).  Many years ago, when I was a younger and more active version of my current self, I used to try drinking Gatorade and Powerade but they would usually result in headaches.  Too sweet, too many electrolytes, who knows?  I swore them off for a decade.  Flash-forward to several months ago. I found myself half-way up a mountain and out of water, so I was left with no other option but to hydrate with the Gatorade that Aimee had brought with her.  This was my first mistake.  Like Jesus and his AA, Gatorade is designed to prey on the weak.  Not only is it intended to hydrate you when you are in dire straights, but it is designed to do it so well that it replaces your urge to drink the fundamental element of life: water.

Several months later, and I am sitting here with neon yellow fluid surging through my body.  In a glass, on the rocks, with a splash. I get lost somewhere between the Lemon and Lime. And it feels so good.

It has become apparent to me that when a man (or woman for that matter) has a shaved head, his age becomes infinitely harder to determine.  At first, the natural assumption made about a bald someone is that they are either A) very old, B) very cancerous, or C) very Mr. Clean.

Nowadays (since the dawn of man), some men have preferred shaving their head to avoid the Homer Simpson look (a few thin sprouts), or to aid in them looking much more bad ass (Shaq).  I think hair plays a big role in reflecting someones age, not only the amount of it, but also it’s texture, appearance, style, and sometimes smell.  For example, if you smell some hair and it smells like moth balls, you can be sure it is of the geriatric variety.  If the hair is grey and wiry, chances are it did not belong to a kindergartner.  I’m not a hairist, it’s just the way of the world.

I think in general, hairlessness makes people err on the side of assuming you are older.  If I as a 25 year old shaved my head, I think the average person would think I looked older then when I had my hair.  As a 25 year old, this won’t really help me much, so I’m going to keep my hair.  But any 20 year old out there with a shitty fake ID, may want to bald it up before hitting the bars, because I have a hunch most bouncers won’t expect you to look like the hairy person in the picture sans.  Also if they think you are sick with something they’ll pity you and let you in even if they do notice that you arent the same race or gender as the person on the ID. Also you will be that much closer to looking like the coolest guy from the Guess Who board game. It’s a win-win.