Paris Hilton, look out. Here comes Pinky.

I think that today, I'd like to make a public service announcement for people who have kids or may some day want them. Do not let your kid become a snobby rich brat.

I got my hair cut yesterday, and while half of the kids asked me, "Why are you all fancy today?" and most of the others said they liked the new look..which isn't so much of a new look as a taming of the shrew's nest that was my hair until yesterday, there were two kids who rudely mentioned how they don't like it.

One, whom I will refer to as, J3, is 8 years old now and afraid of change. So I expected it from her. Plus, she shows love by saying she hates you and then climbing into your lap and begging you to play games with her.

But the other, whom I will dub "Pinky," as Russian Phil has already done so, grabbed at it, made a face, and said, "Why did you cut your hair like this?" I started to say, "Because I felt like it," or "Why not?" as I normally respond to this type of childlike throat slitting, but it really bothered me. I wanted to snap back, "Why did you get those stupid-looking baby bangs, dumbass." But then I remember that A) I need to hang on to this job a little longer and B) she's only in 4th grade and is by no means a candidate for Mensa.

So I just glared at her and told her, "I don't appreciate that question. That's very rude. You don't ask people that sort of thing. That hurts me that you said that." All I did was get it shoulder length and have some layers put back in it. That's it. It doesn't look much different from any other cut I've had the past couple of years. She is a bitch. Who that hell dresses their 4th grader in Juicy Couture T-shirts, anyway? This child from the family in Destrehan that I had to bring home and babysit in their cat-shit scented house for four hours, without them leaving any dinner (Little snot ate spaghetti out of a bag while older snot ate a lime....go figure.), coming home an hour and a half late, and not even paying me $7 an hour...when I was making more than that at my day job. That was the last time I did any independent babysitting. Ever. Except for the Dub. Can't say no to the boss.

Anyway, as promised, here's today's moment of zen. The name has been changed to protect the pathetic:

"How Ad-rock Became Ad-rock."
I remember that I used to be an average Joe. But then I did these things and hopefully, when I grow up, I'll be a girl magnet. When I was 7, I was playing my Gameboy. I turned the radio on and heard "Who Let the Dogs Out." "This song is cool," I said to myself. So, 2 weeks later, I bought the album and I would always listen to it.
My friend turned 13 the next day. He had a Bar Mitzvah. I had to go to the service. After the service, I said, "Isn't there a celebration?" "YES" mom said. "There is an after party." "SWEET!!!!!!" I said. When the party got started, everybody got a request sheet. "Let's see if they have the Ba-Ha Men." I asked. They did! I requested it and gave it to the DJ. It was the moment of truth. The song was on, so I jumped on the dance floor, put on my black sunglasses, and lipsank to all of the words. Everybody loved me. My mom, on the other hand, was surprised.
1 year later....
Now I was 8 and I started listening to RAP. Then a few months later, I had chains, hats, sunglasses, and more...
One day, my dad said "Son, nobody likes you because you started liking rap."
That day, I found out who I really am on the inside. I'm not a homie or a dude. I think I'm cool just the way I am. I'm Ad-rock, and saying that I have a better life, and "better is better."