A Letter From Matt's Headband This is my goodbye. You won't see me again, not for another year at least. No hair = no headband. And it's such a shame, too. Have you seen Matt's hair with me in it? It's Spanish Riviera without the Speedos. We ooze, no ma'am; we exude, not quite; we emanate sex appeal. And he's throwing that all away. For the fight against children's cancer. I tried to reason with him. I tried to tell him that he would look like an Irishman. (Really though, every Irishman on earth has the same haircut - the buzz cut. It's like a secret code they use to identify each other in a crowd.) He ignored me, almost like he couldn't hear me, almost like he considered me to be an inanimate object incapable of headwear to human communication. The cold treatment. 'What a dick,' I thought to myself, shutting me out like he did. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that it was a good cause, and maybe I shouldn't be a selfish dick. I gave my blessing, and together, we want to solicit your donation to our team. And incidentally, if you need a headband, I have an opening in my schedule starting March 25th. Hit me up on facebook and we can chat. I do guys and girls, but I don't do children. I'll leave that one to Matt, too.