I used to have dreadlocks. A single one mostly, stuck up on top of my head. That's called a stovepipe dred, Scott told me. Maybe if I'd known that I would have kept it on longer, worked it into some kind of personal machine architecture.

I cut the dreds off with a knife, when I realized I was spending a lot of time convincing people I wasn't insane. In spite of my stovepipe. I cut those nappy hairs off and I had a much more reasonable comb-over instead. Viola, I met Amy just a few weeks later.

Friend Chris has dreds, and his wife Jen to convince him he actually is insane, and he needed a haircut. By the look of the smile on his face when all his hair was shorn today, it looks like he had something to be happy about amidst all of that.