balding angrily

The plan was that this blog was going to be my gateway to happiness, a distraction from my job. Instead it pointed out that that distraction was really, really distracting. And I got a slap on the wrist for it. Then months and months crawled by with me struggling to maintain interest in this side project. And I found other distractions - a literature class, working out, eating better. Lately I’ve been concentrating on finishing a graduate school application.

All this to say, I acknowledge that Balding Angrily is struggling to maintain life. For the two people that may be reading this, thank you for sticking around, and I haven’t given up. I see a future for BA, possibly as a very specific kind of gay porn website - bald men with twisted, red faces. Though that kind of porn is readily available, my porn would really, really focus on the bald and the angry. Just like the foot fetish websites feature pictures taken from the ground level with foreshortened legs and humongous feet, mine would feature pictures taken from above the veiny, hairless foreheads of my models.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year from all of us here at Balding Angrily Central. Here is my final Christmas thought for you:

Junk mail filter is on! Wonder Twin powers, activate! Form of…a cheetah! Form of…a bucket of water!

Poor Zan, always having to turn into a bucket of water with an Abyss-like head extension popping out of it while his curvy sister gets to turn into a Discovery Channel-ready noble animal. I always felt sad for Zan.

Pre-adolescent worries aside, I just turned on the junk mail filter for alex@baldingangrily. Dreamhost assures me that it’s an aggressive spam filter, so you may get your email caught. If you do, please alert me. Most of you know another email address you can get me at.

The other night a friend, a fellow baldy, said to me, “Balding Angrily, eh? Well I’m Balding Happily.” It was the first he’d heard of the blog. I was taken aback about half an inch but dismissed it, knowing it was a joke.

When Andrew Dice Clay got called out for his act, his wife defended him from the accusations of homophobia, racism and misogyny. She said (paraphrasing) “What that is on stage is a character he plays to get laughs. The man that I spend my life with isn’t like that.” I always understood that defense; I think that’s a legitimate position. I also, life everyone else, thought, “Yeah, but…”

• Yeah, but I bet there’s a part of him that is a misogynistic, racist, homophobic asshole.
• Yeah, but even if it is a character, should those things be said for entertainment? What value is added to the world?
• Yeah, but he’s using an ugly character for his own gain. He’s making money perpetuating stereotypes.

Pick any of those or come up with your own “Yeah, but…” Keep it in your head. You’ll use it later.

The name for the blog came to me after some light self-reflection. Think of it as microwave self-reflection. Quick and simple. A kind of reflection that excites the brain cells just enough. I was trying to come up with a name for the blog that was catchy, that someone could easily remember when surfing. I looked at my two favorite blogs, Little. Yellow. Different. and Defective Yeti and felt the words in my mouth. They’re fun phrases to taste, and they’re memorable. I used them as a template.

I knew my bald head would be an image easily exploited, but I needed a phrase. Balding gracefully was easy to remember, but I thought, “I don’t do things gracefully.”* I thought of other -ly words, and after the microwave self-reflection, I came up with balding angrily. I liked the way that tasted. It’s smooth feeling, velvety with a hit of acid that comes with the hard g. So the name of the blog came out of a utilitarian and visceral thing. Easy to remember. Tastes good.

As I say in the about me, I’m not truly angry.** I have my pet peeves, but I don’t hold a whole lot of vinegar. Pick another adjective and you might come closer to the truth: curmudgeonly, acerbic, pessimistic. But not angry. Look at my mascot. That guy’s more annoyed than angry. And even with those other adjectives, I like to think that’s a character I play to get laughs. If ever my curmudgeonly, acerbic, pessimistic manner hurt someone’s feelings, I’d be sad. My goal is to entertain, not offend.

Now hit me with your “Yeah, but…”

• Yeah, but Alex, if you aren’t really so acerbic, how can you do it so well?
• Yeah, but Alex, what good are you doing for the world by assuming this curmudgeonly character?
• Yeah, but Alex, isn’t it just as easy to assume a happy character, one that brings light?

I would answer those questions, but I would have to defend myself. Which would make me angry. I started this post angry and have been using this post to difuse it. Now that it’s gone, I don’t want it back.

Maybe I’ll tell you another time what made me angry. Maybe I won’t. If I do, hooray! You get a prize! If not, suck it.

^{*Somewhere in the code of this site, you’ll see the tag not gracefully. If I had a different Wordpress theme the blog would have a colon name, a sequel name. Balding Angrily: Not Gracefully.}

**Yes, the inspiration also came from Angry White Girl, who I still miss. I frigging loved her.

Yes, this is one of those posts - one of the one’s where I apologize profusely for not posting, but I also want to update you on something going on.

As you all know, I’m in the midst of a struggle trying to figure out what to do with my career. I can’t honestly say I hate architecture, but I have no passion for it. Over the past six months since I started this blog, this feeling of disquietude has increased, probably because the job so clearly contrasts with this blog, which I really love doing.

As you probably know, I’ve been doing a lot of blogging at work. On Friday my bosses asked me to stop doing internet things. While I would love to tell the bosses to shove it and walk, that’s a reaction that doesn’t match in severity the request. Also, I have my obligations to the household and Jerry to think about.

This meeting on Friday was a long time in coming, and I knew it. Over the weekend I spent some time moping, and I am still unsettled as to what to do. Because of this, the forces of nature have made it clear to me that I need to shit or get off the pot. It’s put up or shut up time. It’s time to throw all the clichés I can think of in a bag and shake vigorously. In other words, I can’t just talk about hating my job anymore. Thoughtful action is required.

What that means for you, my faithful readers, is I may be posting less as I try to get my shit together.

I just re-read the Cols post after a friend who knew Cols called it bittersweet. I really tried hard to take all the bitterness out of it.

When writing about a real-life situation that made me laugh or smile, it’s a real struggle to get you, the reader, to feel the humor, to get you to smile. See, I don’t hold with the “Aw, I guess you just had to be there” philosophy. I think it’s a failure of the writer if they can’t put their readers in a given situation.

On the other hand, I can’t hold a gun to your head and say, “Laugh, dammit! That’s funny shit!” I don’t have that kind of control, and I have to just let you come to a story on your own terms. And if you don’t laugh, that’s cool. Hopefully, you’ve still enjoyed the story. So I’m at peace with that struggle. I won’t stop struggling to make you smile, but I’ll never be hurt if you don’t.

Having said all that, I’m always surprised when I get a laugh at something I wrote because invariably its not at a place where I intended one. It’s when I turn a phrase that I didn’t even realize I was turning that Jerry goes, “that’s some funny shit right there.” And yes, Jerry is always my test-subject. God bless him.

That’s enough naval-gazing for now. We’ll be back to our regularly scheduled program on Monday, unless someone forwards me another unicorn video this weekend.

You know those blog posts where the author apologizes for being busy and for the lack of regular posting? This is definitely not one of those.

But for any of the people that had any interest in posting on Balding Angrily, now is the time. I have a big project due on June 1st, and I hope that won’t prevent me from posting. You never know though. I’m also completely out of ideas.

That said, I found a place that makes tortas the other day. I’ve had tortas on the mind for about 2 months, and it was as if God heard my prayer and delivered a tortaria right next to where I was washing my car. Thanks, God.

In case you missed the first “I’m peeking at you,” I commented on the search terms people most typed into Google to get to my site. Here’s the April edition; my hosting peoples start me fresh at the beginning of the month, so I thought this would be the perfect time. Following are the search terms with the number of times people typed them in to get to Balding Angrily.

Always with the bullets.

• alex knesnik (10) - Who dat? Over the past month I’ve slowly come out of the closet about the website to my loved ones. These are all people to whom I’ve said, “Yeah, I have a website, but I don’t want you to read it because I’m embarrassed about the stuff I write about.” So. Hi mom!
• alex balding (7) - Who dat else? Let’s think of all the other balding Alexs. Alex P. Keaton wasn’t; he’s shaky but not balding. Oo, a Parkinson’s joke. That, ladies and gentlemen, makes me a bad person. But really, it doesn’t make me love him any less. I think Katherine Hepburn was the most beautiful and talented actress in the history of cinema, but she was a bit shaky.
• kiefer sutherland (4) - I Googled Mr. Sutherland after I saw this to see how far down the list Balding Angrily was. I got to about page 6 and gave up. You must be pretty hard up for Kiefer bits if you get here using that search term. You must need a Kiefer drip. “Really, this is the last website. After this, I’ll shut down the computer. I just want to see if this next site has just an itsy-bitsy, minute, barely visible slice that I couldn’t get from the other 200 websites.”
• frequency kenneth gay (4) - How often does Kenneth get gay with his work buddies? Twice a week? What does Kenneth do when he gets gay with his work buddies? Over-the-underwear activities? Does he have a martini party? Does he match the towels in the executive bathroom to the bathmat? And who’s curious about poor Kenneth and the frequency with which he gets gay? What kind of friends are those?
• jcrew employee discount (4) - Hm. Sorry I didn’t provide an answer before. I believe it was 50% except on special items. That discount applied to sale items too. I have a pair of pants in my closet that were originaly $120. I got them for about $20. If you were wondering if you should apply, I’d say, yeah. If they still have that discount.
• batman spanking robin (3) - My favorite part of this exercise is finding out about people’s little quirks. Some would call them sicknesses, but I won’t. At least 3 people want to see pictures of Batman spanking Robin. That’s cool. I think, though, to be fair you should also want to see pictures of Robin spanking Batman or Superman spanking Batman or Aquaman spanking She-Ra or Skeletor spanking Man-at-Arms. To limit it to just pictures of Batman spanking Robin seems incomplete, like you’re just not committing fully to your sickness quirk.
• get to know you questions deep (2) - Who is judging how intimate I should be with my questions? Who is telling me that me and my questions should go to a happy hour and spend three hours discussing our common loves and losses? I’m happy with the relationship me and my questions have right now, thank you very much. Maybe in a couple of months we’ll want to take it to that next level, but, you know, we just met. Why rush things?
• balding suicide (2) - I told you before the last time you did this; Jesus loves your bald head. Actually, this is a little more serious than the others. It makes me sad if someone out there is considering suicide because they’re going bald. There are many, many, many, many other things in this world that are more depressing and worthy of anxiety than a chrome dome. Do me a favor. Tell those other pretty-boy, skinny, black-hearted queens that their spiked, bleach-tipped hair looks ridiculous. Tell them they look like a porcupine run over by beauty supply van and their Armani WW1 flight goggles/sunglasses make them look like a Devo music video from the 80s. Tell them that you are a real person from the top of your shiny head to the tips of your unpainted toenails. Tell them to kiss your (more than likely) hairy white ass and not to come up for air until they are ready to recognize that bald is beautiful. That Bruce Willis gets more tail then they’ll ever hope to get. That Mr. Sexy-Ass-Kiss-Me-In-The-Morning-Then-Just-Walk-Away Jason Statham could tranport their sorry kneecaps to the backs of their legs. That the mother fucking King of Siam told you to tell them that “they be only womens and Christians and therefore unworthy of Buddha’s interest,” et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.
• tailoring shirts tight pecs (2) - This sounds like a dance. It’s all in the hands and arms with this one. In the first part of the move, the “tailoring shirts” part, you put your arms in front you and make like you’re threading a needle, and in the “tight pecs” part, you feel on your breasteses in a circular fashion but with opposite hands, forearms crossed. Do it with me. A one and two and tailor shirt, and three and four and tighten pecs. Do whatever you want with your legs. Hopefully you’re close enough on the dance floor to the person you want to have sex with that they’re not looking down at your legs. And who cares anyway? He’s drunk. If you’re doing the Watusi with your legs, it wouldn’t matter because your beautiful, perfect, hairless head says to him that you are virile; you could last hours in the sack.
• batman spanking robin’ (2) - Now with apostraphe! For added possesiveness.

Since I put that little Amazon advertisement down there underneath all the other detritus in the right column, I’ve been paying attention to what comes up. Amazon calls it an Omakase link, which, according to them, is Japanese for “leave it up to us.”

It is commonly used in Japanese restaurants for a meal where the chef uses their experience and knowledge to select and prepare the meal for a customer without specific directions.

Omakase - try it, you’ll like it!

In other words, Amazon is reading your browsing habits right now - RIGHT NOW, I TELL YOU!!! - to select the perfect product for you. If you’re scared that this is a little too close to Big Brother, you can read their privacy statement under the ad. I’d hate to lose you as a reader. Though, if by now you don’t know the government is reading your every move through the internets, you’re hopeless and very naïve.

ANYways, I noticed today that its pick for me is the soundtrack to Jerry Springer: The Opera, but it’s hard to see “The Opera” part. I just saw “Jerry Springer.” I found that a bit offensive. This little bit of Japanese sushi is telling me that I would really enjoy Jerry Springer? Sure, I loves me some Project Runway and I loves me the first couple of weeks of American Idol when all the crazies come out and wag their fingers at Paula and I loves reading on the internets when Paula gets all crazy drunk and nearly falls out of her chair during an interview and I loves me some Britney actin’ a fool, thinking she’s Kojak with a lollipop in her mouth.

But Jerry Springer? Come on. A man’s got to draw a line somewhere. Then I read “The Opera” part, and I felt dumb. ‘Cuz Jerry Springer: The Opera sounds delightful.

Which leads me to this: How can I get that bit of Sanrio code down there to come up with, say…The Joy of Gay Sex or Our Bodies, Ourselves or Zamfir Plays the Most Beautiful Melodies: Volume 2 or Helen Reddy’s Greatest Hits? I’m not sure why suddenly I want to be swamped with pulp from my parent’s generation, but that’s not the point; I just want it to.

Or, what about a book on apples? I want to learn about apples. How are they made? Who puts the seeds in them? How come my local Albertson’s is only stocked with mealy, smushy apples that fall apart in your mouth like pre-chewed food from a momma bird? (I imagine.) Why is it always the apple that Eve supposedly took from the tree of knowledge, leading to millennia of suppression of the fairer gender? Why not a passion fruit, mango, or kiwi? Would it have made a difference? Would it have been a deadly, furry kiwi instead of an apple that poisoned Snow White? Is it the shape of the middle of a sliced apple that gets people all atwitter? The fact that it looks a little like, erm, lady-parts? Is the apple in the creation story supposed to represent lady-parts, thereby reinforcing the sin of woman? If the apple had been a furry kiwi in the creation story, would fuzzy bald men’s heads be a symbol of sin? Would I have to wear a hat to cover up my sinful, fuzzy head? Ooooooooh! Maybe it originally WAS a kiwi! That explains the Yarmulke! But then, what about Superman? When he’s Clark he wears a hat, and when he’s Superman he doesn’t! Does that mean Superman is sinful? Does that mean that saving people from falling glass using your heat-vision is sinful? Does that make Kryptonite some sort of holy instrument like a papal relic? I wonder if the Pope would bless a piece of Kryptonite…like if Lex Luthor somehow snuck a piece in front of him in a crowd and the Pope accidentally blessed it. What would happen? Do you think Superman could be cool with a blessed piece of Kryptonite? He’d be like, “Yeah, I know it could kill me, but come on! It’s blessed! Whaddaya gonna do?” I’m not sure why Superman had to turn into a Soprano just then, but it probably wasn’t the first time. And did you know that Miss Teschmacher’s first name is Eve? How’s that for a coincidence?

So, yeah, let’s just see what Okinawa down there comes up with now. Call this experimental theater.

-Update-

If you’re reading the comments below, this post used to have a lot of boldeds where now there are italics.

I took the day off yesterday because I spent some time writing something I feel honored to have been asked to write. I can’t say much more, as I want it to be a surprise when (and if) it comes out.

Speaking of writing outside of Balding Angrily, in case you missed it, M. Robert posted my update on his site on Monday. There was a lot of confusion because I wrote as if I were him. Sorry if you didn’t get that.

Too much time on my hands? Never. A person can never have enough free time.

As M. Robert said, we’ll be doing the switcheroo in a bit. We just met for lunch; he gave me a big ol’ stack of things to wade through before I feel comfortable enough to post to his site.

Stay tuned. I’ll be playing Phoebe; he’ll be playing Ursula. Or is it my Barbara Harris to his Jodie Foster?