I was a big tease

I think I'm one of the few people who looks at old photos with the same apprehension that plastic surgery patients must have about pre-op snapshots. Instead of "dear God, how did ants never mistake my breasts for home sweet home?!" I have the pleasure of wondering, "Why did my parents keep buying me hair spray?"

Yes, for those who met me after 1991, I was a Jersey Hair girl. No, let's be honest: I did everything but snort Aqua Net. I've never been comfortable with admitting that I had a problem but I was outed on Facebook this week by my HS friend Amy, who posted a photo of me from 11th grade that would make Bon Jovi wince:

I only hope that this look is so 80's that its awfulness can be considered cool.

I honestly don't know what possessed me to do that to my hair. I don't recall anyone ever telling me that it looked good (which should've been a clue). I wish I could remember the acid-wash-wearing person who inspired me (so I can hate them) but I can't. Vats of alcohol left me drowning in dead brain cells so I don't remember much about the 80's, 90's and half of today (let alone which member of Bananarama might've sparked my interest in mousse).

Who's to blame for such a craptastic hybrid of mullet and ladder? I could blame MTV and movies (even pets had big hair back then). I could also blame my friends (let's face it, alleged BFFs: I would've been pretty if it weren't for that rats nest). But, in the hopes of making peace with my past and hair, I'll take the blame. I'm the one who spent hours teasing and sculpting that 4"-closer-to-God helmet, after all.

It's okay, Facebook friends from CSHS, feel free to leave the comments you've all been thinking: "Jesus, her hair looks better now that it's conforming to the law of gravity" or "So THAT'S what her face looks like!" I'm not afraid to talk about the flammable mess that once topped my head.

I mean, really, we all have something we didn't like about ourselves as teenagers (braces, baby fat, acne, bad makeup, ugly clothes, etc). Anyone who looks at their yearbook without cringing is either a liar or an asshole. Seriously, if you were perfect in high school, FUCK YOU (I probably wasn't friends with you then, either).

But back to the healing process...thanks, Amy, for helping me see that no matter how old I felt today, being young doesn't guarantee looking better. And much respect to my Man for helping me put down the hairspray and step away from the blow dryer in 1992; without him, I may never have felt the wind blowing through my hair again. In fact, I'd probably be bald.

In the interest of moving forward, here's one last look back at the "hair don't" I once thought was perfectly normal, possibly even cool:

A chronological retrospective of how my hair progressed in high school: big, bigger, biggest, and OMFG. Of course, "progressed" might not be the right word.

Doodle bug (me)

So lately I've been seeing a lot of fake doodling in advertisements and it's really starting to annoy me. At first, I thought it was clever. I even felt a fond wave of nostalgia for the doodling that marks our youthful days. I'm to the point now where I'm starting to resent Madison Ave for doing such a bad job of it.

Case in point:

This is an ad for Kellogg's -- its design is like a giant cereal bowl of doodles kids can never escape.

Now compare that with doodles from my 8th grade yearbook:


Clearly, there's no comparison.

I think back on all the doodles I drew and shared with friends (especially Jenn Grill -- now Ritter -- my best friend and co-conspirator in a 7th grade attempt to sketch and make fun of everyone who lived in Coral Springs, FL).

None of my adolescent doodles mentioned a love of Captain Crunch cereal. Most of our sketches came from a place of pure evil; in fact, the capture of one landed me in detention for a week with "Admiral Asshole" (from the doodle pictured above).

Why would advertisers think they could safely mine such a treacherous shaft? I'm guessing it all started with 2004's "Napoleon Dynamite," whose innocent "ligers" were quintessential dork doodles.

Shortly after the surprise success of that movie, I started noticing t-shirts in Delia's, Urban Outfitter's and Alloy catalogs that were close representations of school-inspired doodles (thy muse being Boredom).

Ah, if only they WERE lifted out of actual notes, I might buy one. Nothing compares to the real thing. No advertising exec can match the evil wit of a bored 13-year-old.

And even if they could, it's unlikely that any corporation would want real doodles selling their products ("be a Cokehead like Kate" with someone snorting a can of Coca Cola off a mirror, for instance).

It makes me wonder: At what point do our doodles cease to be creative, clever, evil and fun? My adult doodle life is mostly my name in a cloud of lightning and bubbles. I've observed other adults doodling those lame-ass boxes within boxes (yawn!). It's sad what becomes of our doodling lives as we age. Does anyone do a good job of it over the age of 25?

Of all the nostalgic doodling going on in advertising now, I think JC Penney does it best (their throw-back "Breakfast Club" commercials are dead-on awesome). Check out their cute take on the classic "doodle heart" renderings we've all scratched at one point:


p.s. Incidentally, Molly Ringwald used doodle "product placement" back in 1984's "Sixteen Candles." Her 3-ring binder has "The Rave-Ups" doodled across the back (she was such a fan of the band that they later appeared in "Pretty in Pink" playing in the background of the club scene). Not sure how successful she was since the only people who bought their album were Molly and her sister, Beth.