The Ginger Problem
To be clear, I am not a redhead. I'm dark-haired and brown-eyed. So, what I am about to say will likely offend the ginger community at large. But, so be it.
The reality is that I love chubby gingerz. Can't get enough of them. If I had the means to adopt a lot of chubby gingerz, I'd do it.
But, God bless, the Irish community -- while mostly drunkards -- seems to take care of their offspring in the dysfunctional Catholic sort of way that makes us all proud to be Americans. Go Celtics!
Anyway, the complete opposite is true of skinny gingerz. They piss me off. I can't put my finger on it, but they rub me the wrong way.
I love watching the ginger Andy Dalton get crushed in the backfield of any given Cincinnati Bengal game. But if you chubbed him up like Craig Stadler, I'd cheer for him at the top of my lungs.
Last week, a chubby red-headed teenager waited on me at a local restaurant and I just wanted to pinch his cheek and give a big hug. I tipped him fifty percent. There is no great kid comedy that doesn't have a chubby redhead in the mix. They're comic gold. And it makes me feel good that if said chubby redheaded waiter also happened to be a struggling actor, then my big tip may have pushed him that much closer to getting a small but explosive role in the next Seth Rogen college romp -- starring Paul Rudd hopefully.
Oh + One More Thing
The weirdest part of my peculiar Ginger temperament is that if any given skinny redhead grows out his lockz or fro, I'm cool. Like say Shaun White. He's money. Until the last Olympics when he cut it down to the Potzie look. At that point, he might as well have played for Canada. Man, I hate Canadianz.