As you all know -- or should know by now -- I love the television show "SouthLAnd."
Two of my favorite characters on the show are Sammy Bryant and Ben Sherman, who are (or were) epic cop partners. The best cop partners since Reed and Malloy. Until their epic cop partnership fell apart in a dramatic fashion in last week's season finale.
The first time I watched "SouthLAnd", though, I was impressed with neither of these guys. It was the middle of Season 4, and what stood out to me about the two of them in the episode I saw was the following: First, Ben Sherman is seen leaping out of a bedroom window in his skivvies after apparently having been engaged in a menage a trois. He has to leap out of the window after the husband of one of the ladies arrives home unexpectedly. And he actually COMPLAINS about having to leap out of the window. "Beggars can't be choosers," I thought to myself. He struck me as a spineless little man. Second, Ben and Sammy are driving around in their squad car, engaged in some "guy talk." They observe a couple of overweight ladies walking by on the sidewalk and proceed to make some rather boarish remarks. Then Sammy says something to this effect, "My father told me, 'Son, if you're like me you'll go to bed with a lot of beautiful women. But, you'll wake up with a bunch of ugly ones.'" He and Ben then appear to be quite pleased with themselves and their advanced senses of humor. At this point, you can imagine what this middle-aged broad was thinking about these two characters. I was not expecting to ever like them very much.
(I'm sorry if I have not gotten all the details of this episode exactly right. I watched it a while ago and I am too lazy to go watch it again before writing this post.)
As time goes on, though, I come to love Sammy and Ben. I come to see their heroism. I enjoy watching them run around with their guns and hand cuffs, knocking bad guys to the ground and taking them into custody. I love watching them drive the squad car -- especially during high speed chases. I come to enjoy their sense of humor and relationship with each other. In short, they do become my favorite cop duo since the days of "Adam 12."
Eventually, I start to follow them on Twitter. Not Sammy Bryant and Ben Sherman, of course. They are fictional. I start to follow the actors who play them -- Shawn Hatosy and Ben McKenzie.
And Shawn Hatosy is an ABSOLUTE RIOT.
And this is where we come to the part about bangs.
Yesterday, he Tweets: THE SHORTER THE BANGS, THE REDDER THE FLAG
Now, sometimes Shawn's humor goes over my head. The meaning of this Tweet may have totally escaped me. At first, I thought it was about that poor actress who got arrested on Friday, but I looked at her picture and her bangs don't appear to be short. Then I decided that perhaps it was a "SouthLAnd" reference, as one of Ben Sherman's Season 5 love interests turns out to be a psycho -- a darling little psycho with a very cute haircut involving fairly short bangs. Am I correct in my interpretation of this Tweet? I have absolutely no clue, whatsoever.
But, it did remind me of a story:
When I had my second baby, I had a hairstyle which involved bangs. I didn't have much time to go to the stylist, though, as this little baby was of the type described as "high need" -- meaning that if I put her down for more than (literally) 30 seconds, she would scream bloody murder. This went on for three or four months. I really didn't mind it all that much, as I enjoyed holding her. But, it really cut into the time I might have devoted to going to the salon. And my bangs had the audacity to keep growing until they were pretty much driving me nuts. So, I got out the scissors, looked into the bathroom mirror, held my bangs down, and cut. I do have fairly curly hair, though, so when I released the bangs from my grip, they popped up into a position that was somewhat higher on my forehead than I had originally intended. At least an inch and a half higher. I was fairly mortified, but -- by this time -- my baby was screaming again. There was no time to fret. I decided to brush the bangs back into the rest of my hair and hope they weren't too noticeable, and that I would not appear to be some kind of psycho on my next trip to the grocery store.
The bangs grew out, though, and the baby grew up. All's good.
And I thank you, Mr. H., for your Tweet. I still have no idea what it actually meant, but you brought back some fond memories for me.