Two Bad Hair Days, Preserved For Posterity

I have a long, sad history of Picture Days... my pen explodes and I only notice after smearing ink across my face, or I forget and wear something completely inappropriate, or the fates combine to create the worst hair days of my life. I've included two such instances here. (See, folks, I hold nothing back.)

August 1989. Picture an awkward 18-yr old rousted out of bed one morning at Freshman orientation and colliding, bed head and all, with an oncoming camera. The result was my student ID for all four years...

Oh, that helmet hair, oh that cowlick, oh those pinchable cheeks...

The denim jacket (stonewashed! how utterly 80's!) was covered in political buttons; the one visible button here says "UNILATERAL DISARMAMENT." I really miss the vintage "ARCHIE BUNKER FOR PRESIDENT" button that I lost. They had a tendency to fall off. The rest are in a drawer somewhere.

Fast forward to February 1993, yet another frigid, snowy Up-Maine winter. A senior, heretofore pre-occupied with various theatrical and scholastic pursuits, is walking through the student union when he realizes this day was the deadline for senior pictures. In he goes, ratty-ass sweater, hat hair, and all. He makes a rushed attempt to wet the hair down as best as possible, and out of the several pictures, this one, unfortunately the best of the lot, goes into my college yearbook...

So maybe what's holding me back from being famous is the fear that embarassing shit like this will be dredged up, perhaps on some VH-1 "Before they were stars" type deal. And if not, then this definitely will...

It's a wonder I ever got laid in college. Oh wait. I didn't...