I was trying to think about what to write about today when I saw my girl Pam's entry about leaving roller derby. I read the post, saw the part about her haircut, and immediately texted her, "I NEED TO SEE A PICTURE OF YOUR HAIR." Because, of course, when one of your besties is going through something, the first thing you think about is the state of her head. But come on: I am her stylist for life. I expect her to consult me on these things, and I get kind of upset when she doesn't. (By the way, did y'all know that Pam is the inventor of "Dewit"? One time we were driving in L.A. and passed by a rocking chair store, and I was like, "Are you kidding me? That store is only about ROCKING CHAIRS? Have some dignity, store! And sell some OTHER CHAIRS." And Pam was like, "Welcome to 'Dewit with AB Chao'! Do you have a store that only sells one thing? Do you need to fix that? CALL ME.") And then we laughed for a million years.
AB + Pam in 2006 = Young
So, to get back to Pamie's hair, I was really upset that she didn't consult me on this new haircut. I am very invested in hair in general, as you know. So when it comes to Pam's hair, I think you could say I am overly invested. Once I even cut her hair my own self. This was when Al and Chris's house burned down, and Pam and I flew to Atlanta to help them buy things like underwear and side tables, and I accidentally cut Pam's hair one morning after coffee. (It was not really an accident.) So I cut it, and then she offered the hair to her readers in an eBay auction as a fundraiser, which, as you can imagine, went over like a lead balloon. ("Is it a BALLOON?"). It never sold, obviously, because selling hair on the internet is WEIRD. But I kept that damn Ziploc bag of hair in the trunk of my car for YEARS. I mean that literally: When we turned the car over to Madeleine, she looked into the trunk and proclaimed, "Mama. There is a bag of Pamie's hair in here." (The bag was labelled "Pamie's Hair.") I finally threw it away after that; too many years had passed, and the hair was looking pretty gross.
ANYWAY. This is all just to say that I am sad my sweet Pam has quit derby, even though I was against it for most of her time there. I have been invested in her health ever since there was a convention in Vegas about her and I made her order fried rice and helped her eat it using two straws as chopsticks. But it meant a lot to her, and she loved it so I loved it too. I am sorry that she is having to quit, even though I am happy that this means she will no longer have hematomas on her legs. Hematomas are nobody's friend.
I love you, Pamela. I loved you the second I ate that damn rice with two straws, and I will love you until we are too old to drink Blue Hawaiis (which will be never). Now send me a picture of your hair, girlie.