| Are you going to any of the October concerts? | |
| Of course! | |
| Maybe... | |
| I am sitting out this round! | |
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5-04-07Don't Hate the Playa, Hate the Hat Well, it had to happen sometime, people. That's right, this week's column features everyone's favorite subject: Tom and his hat issues. I almost feel cheap writing about it, but I couldn't ignore it anymore. Especially after I received reader mail from Melaniii with this picture attached:  
Why isn't he wearing it? What happened? Did someone die? Did hell freeze over only to be warmed and melted by Gustav's glaring charity and Bill's flaming ruffled poet's blouse?!WHERE IS THE HAT, TOM? WHERE IS IT? When will it strike again? Is it hiding in the shadows, waiting, waiting, to burst out onto the scene and put a strangle hold on my sanity? I think Tom is playing a game with us. A sick game. A twisted game. A game that will only end in that hat. And then no one wins. That hat is up to no good. Sure, some of you out there think the hat is fine. Some of you think it's sensible. Some of you even think it's attractive. But let me shed some light on that hat. First of all, Tom has more hats than Bill has shoes. That worries me for a number of reasons. I won't get into them but just imagine their tour bus. Sure, the thing's pretty enormous, but Tom wears a new hat nearly every day. Zeus knows the boy only wears them fresh. One bend in the brim, one speck marring its pristine surface, one curl of the little holographic sticker, and the hat is retired, never to be seen again. How can they fit all of Tom's hats on the bus? Second, I am worried about the amount of time Tom spends preparing and maintaining his hats for human consumption. He can't just walk into a store, pick out a hat, and wear the bastard home. No. Tom has dreads. Long, coiling dreads that he wears in a high ponytail. (I'm too embarrassed to get into the scrunchy business, but just know it's there.) This means Tom must cut large holes into the backs of all of his expensive, American sports related, hats. And if he wears a woven skull cap (which he often does) that means he has to cut a hole in that, too. Now, you may be thinking, "It ain't no thang". But I disagree, my fiend. It is very much a thing. Imagine him in the tour bus, all of his hats and skull caps laid out in front of him on his bed, scissors in hand and a gleam in his eye. He'd probably be in XXX thug pajamas, still wearing his hat from the day, with his tongue barely just poking out from his mouth as he carefully and lovingly cuts up his prized possessions. You know that he doesn't trust that sort of task to anyone. He won't even let Gustav help him. The fool. 
I'm estimating that it takes him twenty minutes to cut out each hat and skull cap together. That's longer than it takes Georg to condition his hair, Bill to French tip all of the nails on his right hand, and Gustav to solve world hunger.My point is, this is getting out of control. Tom is complicating his life with all of this silly hat nonsense. Think of all of the fangirls he could be making sweet love to in the time it takes him to prepare one hat. FOUR. Four fangirls, five minutes a pop. Anywhichway, I was lucky enough to get ahold of Tom for a mini interview between tour dates. Here are the results: Arianne: Hello, Tom! Thank you for clearing a small window in your busy hat schedule to speak with me! Tom: Yo, baus! Arianne: So, I see you're wearing your hat today. Tom: Jah. There's a draft all up in here. Arianne: It's 80 degrees Fahrenheit, Tom. But I digress. Let's get down to business. When did you first start wearing hats? Tom: Hard ta say... I... Um... This is whack! I dun have to explain myself to you! Arianne: It's okay, Tom, let it all out. I'm here to listen. Tom: But... but... Arianne: Think back to a more innocent time, a time before the baggy jeans and the Ecko unlimited ravaged your very soul. Tom: *tears up* I can't remember a time without the hat, actually. It's not even just a hat anymore, it's a lifestyle. Arianne: Like Bill's makeup? Tom: Bill can wash the makeup off anytime. My hats... they call to me in the night. Arianne: Have they ever touched you in a bad place? Tom: What?! It's not like that! They... Arianne: You once had a chance at a normal life, Tom. And they took that from you. It's okay to be angry. Tom: All I ever wanted was someone to love me. Arianne: But the hats... they aren't the way. This is sick, Tom. This ends here tonight. Tom: ... Arianne: You can do this, Tom. Just give me the hat. Tom: *lip quivers* Arianne: I'll buy you a new scrunchy. Tom: I can't do this to my hat. I can't! You're a bad lady! *stands up* *kicks chair over* Arianne: Where are you going? Tom: Back to the tour bus. Arianne: *sigh* Well, at least I tried. Thank you for your time. Tom: Do you want Bill to come in next? Arianne: No, actually I was just here to talk to you and- wait. Waaaait a minute. Send in Gustav? Tom: Sure. Arianne: XD *falls over* Tom: Are you okay? Arianne: *_* Tom: Um? Arianne: Is he as magnificent in person as he is in all of my dreams? Tom: Just don't stare directly into the light and you'll be fine. Send in a comment and it might just make next week's column!
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