Hey, Todd, do you know who you look like right now?” My wife asked. FYI: This game never ends well for me. 

Because of my rather stocky stature and Sasquatch body and head hair, the list of people I most often resemble is a who’s who of doofuses, nimrods, and gregarious wild men. At one point or another, I’ve been told that I look like John Goodman (and not the good John Goodman, but the real fat one when he played Roseanne’s husband), Roger Daltrey (frizzy haired lead singer of The Who), Jack Black (as Nacho Libre), and Jeff Spigoli. 

Sarah never tells me that I resemble someone that I’d want to look like. It’s never Brad Pitt in “Fight Club” or Ewan McGregor in “Long Way Down”. And with my current status of hair - an out of control curly mullet – I braced myself. My neck hair has grown so thick it has curled across my throat and is dangerously close to connecting with my beard. I call this The Scarf.

“Please, please, tell me who I look like,” I said sarcastically.

“Danny McBride,” Sarah said, as she let out a slight snort of laughter. “I mean come on. Look at your hair. Hello? Tropic Thunder!”

In case you haven’t seen the movie Tropic Thunder, Danny McBride plays the pyro maniac who shouts out such classic lines as, “Mother Nature just shit her pants!” and “Let’s rub some tiger palm on these nuts.” Throughout the movie, McBride dons a real life permed mullet with racing stripe sideburns. 

But there is a good reason why I haven’t cut my hair. If you are just tuning in, I’m completely Stanley Cup crazy. In the last month I’ve tied down the fight strap on my hockey jersey while I sat in my living room watching the NHL playoffs, grew a playoff beard, and refused to cut my hair to obtain maximum hair.

My beloved Minnesota Wild didn’t make the playoffs, though. So I wanted the Chicago Blackhawks to win The Cup. But they lost as well. Naturally, my wife thought when the Hawks lost that my fever would subside. But now it is June. And I’m still Cup Crazy. Today is Thursday June 11^th and Game 7 is on Friday. That means it will be the last hockey game of the 2008-2009 season. I complained to Sarah how the Stanley Cup playoffs are about to end.   

“Can’t you just watch other sports?” She asked innocently. 

The problem is that I don’t watch other sports. I’m not smart enough to watch baseball. My friend Sally, a huge Twins fan, just told me her theory about how when some Twins player named Go-Go Gomez gets on base he freaks the pitchers out so much because he is super fast. Sally was curious to know what the batting percentages of the following Twins batters were when Gomez reached first base, then second base, etc. The whole discussion hurt my head. And how does someone get fired up to watch summer tennis. Seriously. Wimbledon? For God sake, I just grew a beard and a mullet in support of a hockey team that isn’t even in my hometown. How can wearing all white clothes and eating strawberries at 7 am on a Sunday even compare?

“Well, whatever you decide to do,” Sarah said, “You can start by shaving your neck.”