Okay, it's stupid time right?
Don't even read this unless you've got a couple minutes to kill waiting for baseball to start.
Here's what I do sometimes, and you can try it yourself.
Just don't tell anybody 'cause it's kinda gross.
Sometimes on Saturdays, I don't take a shower in the morning like I do every other day of my life.
Sometimes instead, I just get up and put on my Cubs hat.
It's like I just took a shower!
I can go right outside and walk the dogs and people think, "Hey look, that guy is walking his dogs after taking his morning shower."
Now, had I walked outside without my Cubs hat on, people instead would think, "Hey look at that poor homeless man. I wonder how he feeds his dogs."
It's all about the hair when it comes to faking people out about not taking a shower, because nobody thinks a guy with hideous bed head took a shower.
So then what happens sometimes is, I even fake myself out into thinking I took a shower and a whole day goes by and I go to bed thinking damn, I never took a shower all day.
Then I get up on Sunday and the same thing happens all over again.
Maybe I make pancakes for everyone and paint a little and catch a little ESPN and shovel a little snow and head down to Borders and not find anything interesting and suddenly it's 3 in the afternoon and my kids say hey man you promised to take us to the movies which is when I remember oh NO, I forgot to take a shower again.
Really seriously don't tell anyone this, because it's so gross I can hardly believe it myself.
But the point of the story is sometimes I end up wearing my Cubs hat for a seriously extended period of time because I didn't take a shower.
Then, I TAKE a shower and now that I've washed my hair, I DON'T put my Cubs hat back on.
Then for example lets say I DO take the kids to the movies.
I'll be sitting there watching the movie and casually reach up to adjust my hat,and it's not there. But it still feels like I'm wearing it.
I call it Phantom Cub Hat Syndrome.
You've heard about people who like, maybe got bit by a great white shark and lost a leg or something, and they say it still feels like their leg is there?
It's the exact same thing, only I didn't get bit by a shark.
In a brighter room than a theatre, people might see me reaching up for the bill of my invisible hat and think maybe there are tiny flying insects around my forehead that I'm trying to squish between my thumb and forefinger.
Anyway, I told you this was stupid and of course you can accomplish Phantom Cub Hat Syndrome by still taking a shower every day, but then when you take your hat off and then go to the movies?
This post is from February of 2010.
I remembered it because right now we're staying at a very nice hotel - one with movie stars and Ferraris and $7 bags of potato chips in your room.
You know how I love the free coffee service for people who wake up super early?
They have that here too.
But my problem is I forgot to pack my Cubs hat.
So yesterday, I'm up at 5:30, throw on jeans and a shirt and think I'm just going to very quickly run through the empty lobby, grab a cup and get back up to my room with nobody noticing.
But it's not just a lobby here - the hotel has two buildings and it's the other one with the coffee.
In between is a driveway where there are car hikers and guys who are paid to open doors for people all day.
I get down there, and sure enough there's some freaking supermodel starlet standing there waiting for a car.
It's been so busy for the last couple months that I literally haven't had time to get my hair cut, so my bed head is Nick Nolte-ish.
I rush by her, but as I do I hear her high heels begin to walk behind me, and I realize that she was holding a cup of coffee and probably is going to the same coffee service destination I am, only for a re-fill.
This next part takes maybe ten seconds.
As I'm crossing the driveway, I realize that it's SO early there isn't a door guy waiting to open the door.
A woman is following me to the door, and I can't help it - common courtesy demands that I hold the door for her, even if I've got Nick Nolte hair sticking straight out in all directions.
So I stop at the door, holding it open, and watch her as she comes forward, politely trying not to stare.
"Thank you," she says.
"You're welcome." I say.
My embarrassment complete, I abandon coffee and slink back to my room.