Thanks to Chris Rock’s movie about black ladies’ hair, I know more about weaves than I ever dreamed I could. I almost feel qualified to start my own weave business. What do you say, ladies- ready to come get your weave put in by me, an enthusiastic young man who just saw a movie about it?
As it turns out, weaves are crazy expensive. They are like the iPads of the black hair world. They should put wifi and web browsing capabilities into hair. If you have an email, your bangs glow blue, if you have a facebook friend request you can tug on your ponytail and your hair says the person’s name.
If you want to tweet you can just say, “Hair, I want to tweet” then say your tweet out loud. I feel like the Steve Jobs of fake hair.
When I was in high school I had long straight hair down to my shoulders. Girls told me I looked like Atreyu from The NeverEnding Story from the back. Well, with my iHair invention you can WATCH The NeverEnding Story from the back of my head. Strange girls would come up behind me and run their fingers through my silky hair, especially in the arcade. Damn, girl I’m trying to play Street Fighter II!
Then I cut off all my hair and said hello to my great aunt in the mall and she didn’t recognize me. She was so startled she damn near called the cops on me. I kept saying, “It’s me! It’s me!” Guess in retrospect that’s the kind of thing a crazy person would say if they were about to drag you to their van in the mall parking lot.
Nobody ever touches my head anymore.