Genetics Are a Funny Thing...but Not Haha Funny

I don't place a lot of stock in the importance of looks; that would be foolish for a man of dubious physical stature. But there's one thing that I'm proud of when it comes to this sweet piece of man candy (mandy): I'm not balding.

Small victory, you may say, but this is no small thing when you consider the genetic hand I was dealt. Grandpa Bob, mom's dad, the supposed source of all things hair related, is about as shiny-headed as Telly Savalis (awesome), so the chances of me being bald was solid right out of the gate. But I'm 30 years old now, and while this hair is thinning, it is also holding its ground along the forehead. And anyone who was at my brother's wedding last weekend can see that he has not been as lucky; his hairline is receding quicker than a Cancun sunset. (That was a shoutout, I'm aware it was a lame analogy.) But this just goes to prove the old adage: "Dancers are really attracted to bald men." Well, this adage is not that old...

Until recently, the fact that the Angel of Bald passed over my proverbial door was a source of some comfort to me. (By the way, don't look for that in Proverbs. It's not there.) But this morning, I realized what my half of the equation was: I'm going gray...and it's not one or two hairs, it's the better part of my temples! At this rate, it's a matter of about a year before I'm the spitting image of Sean Connery, sans wrinkles. Let's just hope that it's the distinguished salt and pepper kind of gray, not the crazy pinstripe Ted Danson look. (Ross Nation Wisdom Nugget: The show Becker is not at all underrated.)

So apparently I'm aging about as gracefully as Grant Gibson on a dance floor (callback), but we'll keep an eye on things. I think next time I'll have to delve into the deeper issues of life, such as my new and frightening addiction to Lost, the commercial I saw for a new show called Rookie Blue -- Alger, this is our bread and applebutter -- and an update on the Great Shower Curtain Saga of 2010.

Ross Nation shoutout to Brenda Ceja for being a good writer. I can't read most blogs cause they lack punctuation, spelling, and content. The three pillars of mediocre writing. But Brenda is throwing down the gauntlet in this weird threeway blogbloc, and it's up to Jake and myself to bring the thunder, Vandal style.

Until then, Ross Nation out.