Do Your Hair for God.

I know you've always wanted to rat your hair for God. Let the ladies of Yearning for Zion Ranch teach you how. In this video the good people of Oprah get a lesson in braiding ass-length manes into the perfect secty, culty do.

It requires three feet of hair, a ratting comb, some elastics, bobbypins, and a lot of fear of God. Also, if you have some fellow wives to help you out and rat your poof for you, that will help.

Do you think Snooki is secretly rocking her poof for God?

Thanks to my friend Dana for the headsup on the video!

Oh, The Humanity.

Aaaaak! Mommy! That should be a health code violation.

As an urbanite I've developed all sorts of fears that may seem irrational to an uninitiated suburban denizen. New York comes with hazards that those unfamiliar with the concrete jungle may not be aware of. For instance; I have a phobia of seeing people with one giant dreadlock. It is enough of a phobia to cause me nausea and the shakes if ever I'm in the radius of one. I had assumed that the existence of one giant dread was a city-centric horror. I thought there was something about the grime and grit of New york that provided the proper habitat for the hair on a person's head to cease up and clump into a giant, hardened mass of matted matter. I thought it was something that the rest of the country would be spared, but alas, a perusal through the archives of People of Walmart proved that my fear has no respect for the city limits.

Oh lord.

I will now be in fear anytime I take a roadtrip as well. This is to say nothing of the other atrocities that apparently await me at any Walmart that I may ever wander into. I have love and compassion for my fellow man, even those traipsing the aisles of a Supercenter with their bellies hanging out of their shirts, but I can't hide the truth of my aversions. See for yourself and tell me I'm in the wrong. Also--just a warning--this site contains more crack than Amy Winhouse.

God, thank you for blessing me and my family with at least outward signs of decency. I appreciate it.

Lovely Lady Bumps.

Snookers and her Lady Lump.

Remember when Marge Simpson reached into her blue bouffant and pulled out a lifetime of various supplies? That is the first thing I think of when I see women with really big hair: "What are they hiding in there?". Thanks to Snooki (aka Snickers, Shnikkkkiz, Snooks), the Jersey Shore hair style du-eternity (BIG!!!!) is back with a vengeance among certain sectors of the female population, and there is now an entire industry of BIG hair that makes it even easier to get a pouf that will double as storage space a'la Marge. Introducing Bumpits!



Dear Lord, I love modern technology and I love infomercial acting even more! Apparently Snooks is not a fan of the Bumpit. Nope, not at all. She teases, no cheating. Here she is on Leno (I know, I can't stand him either, but it the Snooks) dogging the do aide and being her generally guidette self.



Gotta love the Snookers. Do you have a Bumpit? Don't lie! I need to know. Tell me. Now.

She's Done Every Do (And Dont').

Guanabee's round-up of Oprah's hairstory.

Oprah's life story (abused little girl born to unwed parents in Kosciusko, Mississippi grows up to become Queen Of The Modern World Who Gives Away Cars) is always inspiring to me, no matter what any of you haters say. You know what else is inspiring? Oprah's ability to become Queen Of The Modern World Who Gives Away Cars with all of the bad hairdos she's rocked over the years. It's really something. The good people over at Guanabee put together a retrospective of Her Majesty's hairstyles over her TV career, and I just had to share them with you. Click the pic above to see Oprah's hairdos and don'ts.

Ah, to be a Jersey Girl.

I know this has made the rounds on the internets, but it is not to be missed. So, if you haven't seen this clip of Ruthless Film's 1994 documentary on Wildwood, NJ, you haven't yet lived.



How amazing are those girls and their hair? Their nails? Their violent tales of crazy?! I used to go on summer vacations there. I can almost smell the heady scent of hairsrpray, fried dough, and sandy cigarette butts. Oh, Jersey, how I love you!

Big Hair.

I've always wanted to know how to do that. Remember when Marge revealed what she stows in her blue do? I feel like this is like that. Only British and different.