Bozo, eat your heart out.

Ever have one of those bad hair days? Ladies you know what I mean. You wake-up to discover you've been "sleep-combing" with a balloon whisk and a stick of butch wax and now you cannot do a thing to tame those fly-aways. I mean, you'd have done better to have styled your hair with a Black and Decker cordless drill -- blindfolded.

I had a night like that the other evening. I cannot confirm the balloon whisk theory mind you, but if the ends justify the theory then the proof is on my head. Sad isn't it. You go to bed, squeaky clean from your bath, hair all washed and dry not expecting to wake-up looking like half of Bozo's wig.

It's a good thing I have such high self confidence. The way my old man was laughing at my hair and chasing me everywhere with the camera made the paparazzi on that unfortunate Spears woman look like the Raiders' defense against the Vikings. Nothing.

I cannot blame him though, it was awfully unruly, fortunately I am cute enough to pull it off. All I have to do is smile and show him the teeth I have poking out of my bottom gums. He melts. I can do no wrong. Keep that in mind for the future ladies, just smile.

Come to think of it, this is far better than waking-up to hairs all over the pillow. Count your blessings where you can. I wonder if male pattern baldness runs in the family? Hey dad, let me get a good look at the top of your head!

(A big thank-you to Eli Hamann for the plug on his blog the other day. Check out Eli, the certified baby genius, at <http://www.hamanneggs.blogspot.com/> Thanks Eli!)

Bonus: A little video of what it is I do ...