"Cliff, pick a fucking hair style."
That's what a former co-worker of mine told me. Those words have stuck with me for the last three years and three months. At the time, I went from having a mustache, a goatee, and an ivy league haircut (that's what the Internet called it when I typed in "Carson Daly's haircut" on Google) to having my head shaved almost bald and shaving my whole face (it was for a job interview, which I nailed, by the way). Since then, I grew the hair back, then the goatee, then the mustache, then lost the mustache, then lost the goatee, then grew it back, then grew the mustache, the shaved it, then shaved the goatee, grew the hair longer when I wanted to be a rock star, back to the mustache and goatee, then did another hair massacre, then grew the mustache and goatee again, then grew the hair again to look like Jim Halpert from seasons 1-4 of The Office, shaved the stache, then combed the hair to look like Jim from the last 3 1/2 Office seasons, and finally cut my hair on Christmas Eve nine days ago to go back to the Carson look, sans the flip in the front. So, yeah, my co-worker's words were justified.
I think there are times in life when you just need to say "These are the way things are and it's never going to change." That's what I think of my hair. I always try to change it up, but ultimately I go back to the Carson sans flip and goatee. I call it the "Classic Cliff." It's one less thing to think about, seeing that as life goes on, I will have to think about more drastic things like marriage, a family, a mortgage, college tuitions, home improvements, and whatever else I need to poor money into.
So, co-worker, I'm picking a fucking hair style because at some point, I'll have to pick a fucking color to paint my future Clifford, Jr.'s bedroom.
