So, this is about three-and-a-half weeks overdue.

Like a cable bill you finally tend to because it’s threatening your TiVo capabilities. Or a really large baby due in June, but he’s dreamt of being a fiery Leo. Well, this baby is finally here, donned with a newly-coiffed head of hair, ready to talk about what a long, strange trip it’s been. A trip filled with hardship, tangles, copious amounts of conditioner and a sailor’s mouth worth of smacktalking.

In mid-December, I decided I couldn’t take it anymore. I decided no amount of personal pride or $5 lattes drenched in chocolate syrup and marshmallow fluff was enough to perpetuate this marathon of insolence. I didn’t just do it for me. I did it for all of us.

So, I made an appointment with John Gay, my quintessentially colorful hairstylist—no, artist, darling—who probably looks and acts exactly like the man you’ve just conjured in your imagination. He brightened up my tresses, gave me a trim and sent me on my way.

The next morning, I put a venti-six-pump-soy-no-water-dirty-Chai-latte on Dave’s desk, complete with post-it note reading: HAPPY HANUKKAH. YOU WIN. Dave started crying. Sipping and crying. Simultaneously. It was all very wet and messy.

It’s been nearly a month since then and, to my surprise (and extreme irritation), Dave has yet to snip a strand of his hair. It’s like giving up a perfectly choice parking spot at the mall because you glance in your rear-view mirror and see that the woman behind you is old and struggling and looks genuinely frightened by the commotion of it all. You keep driving, figuring you’ll find another one, and then she just doesn’t take the spot. Take the spot, David. I left it there for you.

I got another haircut on Monday evening. John Gay says it’s very “modern-day huntress.”

I figured if I have to walk around the office as the girl who lost that weird hygiene bet, I should spruce things up. So, consider me spruced. And consider Dave consistently jacked up on caffeine through Valentine’s Day.

Congratulations, David. It’s been fun and friendly.

Your teeth are looking a little yellow, though.


Claire’s beau gave her up…see for yourself:

proof of the cheatness

Claire…busted like the vase in the "Mom-always-said-never-play-ball-in-the-house" Brady Bunch episode.

and here (heaped in controversy) is the most recent update. Claire, void of split ends, appears twitchy and suspicious whereas I appear to be comfortable with my place in the universe due to the fact that I am not lying about getting my hair trimmed…like Claire. Claire the liar. Claire the hair trimmer.


the number 33 is a holy number. it means truth.

Hollywood, CA. — County Sheriff Lee Foster and Canoga Park Ranger Sheriff James Metts announced Friday that a joint task force between the two agencies will be formed to investigate a series of attacks seemingly focused on the rich and famous. Random celebrities are being attacked and shaved. Bald.

Sheriff Lee Foster said the string of “baldings” happened over the course of the last six weeks beginning on June 05.

Originally deputies said it appeared that the sole motive for the crimes was to steal money and items that could be sold in order to purchase marijuana and live in hotels.

On June 26, investigators responded to Mt. Tabor Lutheran Church on Mt. Tabor Road. Foster said the break-in was obvious, but nobody was attacked. Or shaved. And it did not appear anything was taken.

We’re in the sunset of July and it’s been just shy of two months since Claire + David started this competition.

So, how are they doing, you ask?

Not good.

Claire is in a generally pissy mood and got this new pair of reading glasses to keep the weeds of hair from suffocating her face. Now she thinks she’s all smart and stuff.

And Dave? Well, Dave’s growing horns.

Get it, girl.

So…check this out:

This is a picture of Claire coming out of a client meeting yesterday…


Here she is today…


I think she cut her hair!

Ok, here we are at week five.

I know it’s been awhile since the last post, but it’s summer. Claire had some travelling to do. She went to L.A. and New York and North Jutland, Amsterdam, Bath, Serbia, Bellinzona, Liverpool, the Netherlands, Slovenia, and Newport Kentucky.

I stayed home and put a bunch of grapes in my mouth.

Anyway, here are the newest pics. I think you can see in Claire’s face the longing to end this contest. She is definitely close to breaking.



I love babies. And America.

I love babies. And America.

…vote for Jurby!

Who's there? Oh, it's me.

Who's there? Oh, it's me.

While we’re busy growing our hair, Lindsay Lohan will be managing Head Games, draping her long, flaxen hair extensions over the nipples of our prior posts.

In the meantime, Dave and Claire are busy driving around Cincinnati to various coffee shops, pet shops and Big Lots locations, picking up on different wireless IP servers so they can continuously vote for Jurby, the cutest damn giraffe-dragon (jagon? jragon? driraffee?) of all recorded time.

Please take a moment to vote for Jurby – if Dave’s illustration wins, it will be featured in a forthcoming iPhone app!

Lindsay voted.

and here we are 2 weeks in. not much change aside from Claire’s obvious lack of confidence. I think its clear from my obviously-trying-too-hard-to-be-cool t-shirt that I have not only the will to win this competition, but the wardrobe as well.

Here sit the popular kids.

Here’s what we have said.

Here’s what…we…categorize?

Here’s an Arbitrary Text thing

i don't think I understand this widget. Alpacas.