Hairy Scary

I got a haircut last weekend and I don’t know what the hell happened to me. When she said she was going to cut in some layers, I must of mm-mmm’ed, distracted by People magazine’s attempt at journalism.

How could I forget when my hair reaches a certain (short) length, it begins to show just the tiniest of wave? Of course I didn’t notice at the time because my hairdresser dried my hair using a $100 boar’s hairbrush the size of a soda can. It wasn’t until I washed it the first time and looked in the mirror with my damp hair.


So no more Katie Holmes hairdo. I now have what could be this commercial┬ámodel’s hairstyle after I spend too damn long with a hot curling iron and some hairspray, something I didn’t have to do before. By the way, I’m talking about the model with two legs, not four.

Would you believe I have proof! I tried to take some flattering pictures of me, but three things thwarted my attempt:

  1. I’m using a camera phone;
  2. In the bathroom with bad lighting;
  3. And I’m the least photogenic person in the world (and I feel weird smiling at myself).


no. 604 – I Ain’t Bambi’s Bitch

Day 1

Him: DD! Come here and look at that! There’s deer in the back yard!

Me: Oh my god! That’s so cool! Get the camera!

Day 2

Him: DD! Come here and look at that! There’s deer in the back yard again!

Me: Oh my god! That’s so cool!

Day 3

Him: DD! Come here and look at that! There’s deer in the back yard again!

Me: Oh. My. Gawd.

2253850276_d77c1c449c (picture from my bathroom window) It really is pretty amazing to look out your bedroom window and see a dozen deer either grazing on the prairie grass of the backyard or still bedded down from the night before. But I have to admit, the novelty is wearing off. I mean, c’mon! Every night when I drive home, we’ll see six, twelve, twenty and even the other day, a herd of thirty strong grazing in the nearby field or crossing the road. Eventually the animal you thought was a beautiful epitome of forest and prairie wildlife suddenly morphs into Bambi’s evil twin brother who was sent to military school when he decided to rearrange his juvenile spots to say "fuck you".

I’ve seen them rutting, enjoying the voyeurism. I watched one the other morning take a dump in our front yard. Did you know they squat down like a dog? It’s not so cute anymore, trust me.

2253850438_61e9ea79cd (picture taken a half mile down the road) There have been some awesome sights out here from the comfort of our own home. That I cannot deny. A pair of bald eagles fed on some carrion in the corn field down the road. The other morning, I very large wild turkey meandered down our lane to cross into the trees on the other side of the road (don’t both with "why did the turkey cross the road" jokes, mmkay?). While it’s not unusual to hear coyotes out here, I saw one prowling the field. Mr. DD’s big fear is the humongous hole, which is probably home to a badger, dug directly into the roots of the mulberry tree on our property’s border.

But the deer have got to go. They will destroy my gardens (if I ever finish landscaping). They spread lyme disease through deer ticks, and even though there aren’t many trees yet where we are, remember XBoy did pick up a tick last year. And when it comes to deer vs. car? While the deer usually loses, having your car towed in with the perfect imprint of a deer across your hood to the nearest auto body shop sucks.

Good thing it’s not illegal to discharge a weapon outside city limits.*


* Now, while I’m certainly no PETA sympathizer, I don’t think I could shoot and kill Bambi. However, my Dad had a nifty trick to keep the two goats we had when we were little from the cattle feed bunks: he would shoot them with a pellet gun aimed at their hips. A pellet hitting your ass smarts. Since I’ve shot at and killed a bat in our old house once, this would be cake.