God loves ugly

Two disturbing things this morning:

1) I found hair on my ear lobe. So my nascent into adulthood (I'm not sure if nascent works there as a play on words, but it came into mind quickly so I'm gonna take it) begins, not with a whimper, but with a lock. Holy crud, this writing is terrible. The theme is this: I found blonde hair on my ear this morning that seems longer than the other peach fuzz and I am now officially getting old. No 17 year old has ever said, "I wonder how to trim ear hair. Do you just shave it, or should there be some plucking or something else involved?"

And who do you ask? Your hairiest relative or just a stranger? Which is worse? "Excuse me sir, I couldn't help but notice that your ear hair is very well manicured. How do you maintain such an attractive length?" OR "Uncle Larry, when I saw my ear lobe hair sprouting, I thought of you. How often do you trim? I know it's not every day, because if I thought of you, it means that you hadn't trimmed..." So maybe I should ask people without ear hair on the off chance that they actually trim their ear lobe hair. Again, relatives or strangers?

2) I googled myself and became alarmed at how much information I've given to the internet. Bad people might find me and steal my mostly unwanted identity. So what did I do? Took my name off Superpages. Yep, that should do it. Never mind that I'm posted on the MO website, or here, or myspace; I'm going to make these crooks pay five bucks for my information from some super computer before they steal my soul.

To borrow from Vonnegut, "So it goes."