You know when you get ready in the morning, and you have a good hair day, how you feel like the entire day is going to go well? Of course you do, unless you’re bald in which case you may be sobbing right now, or shaking your fist at the heaven’s and screaming, “Curse Bad Ass Frank and his constantly fabulous locks!”. Either way, you’re still bald. But join in with those of us who are blessed with healthy follicles and imagine, if you will, an entire weekend of nearly perfect hair. And when I say “nearly perfect”, I mean “totally perfect”, but I don’t want to come across as arrogant. So please note the humility I’ve shown, out of respect for you mortals who don’t have hair as beautiful as mine.

Coming up later in my blog, naked picture taker Holly Randall.

 My weekend was almost as awesome as my natural head covering. It started off as a guest on my friend Karri’s internet TV show, Eve-101. She and her co-host Trista, cover all manner of sex, dating, and relationships, all with insight, humor, and a tendency toward anal gangbang discussion. It’s very romantic. This week they brought on myself and comedian Rev. Mitcz as the male counterpoints. As always, I spent the entire show trying to fend off the advances of both girls and, strangely, Mitcz. Check out the faux pajama party at www.thestream.tv along with the girls’ blog at www.eve-101.com.

Karri and Trista.

 On Saturday I actually woke up with my hair still in place from the previous night. That’s some magical shit right there. So I headed off to the gym for a kick ass workout and then to the tanning salon to the stars, Sunstyle, for the trifecta of golden bronzeness; high pressure bed, followed by a spray tan, follwed by the stand up bed. I am now a negro, albeit a slightly orange-ish, short negro with a small penis.

Saturday night was kinda dead. Well, I spent it at a cemetery, so most of the people were dead. At this point, I’m not even sure you can refer to most of them as “people”, since they’ve probably all decomposed. They’re more like “stuff”. So I spent Saturday night with dead stuff. Ok, not everybody was dead. Some of us were alive and watched a movie. Hollywood Park Cemetery plays movies on the weekends and shitloads of people who aren’t yet deceased attend. I went with Leyna and Evelyn, who are both undeniably alive, as were the approximitely one thousand other attendees.  Everybody comes early (kinda like I do during sex) and sets up blankets and chairs (kinda like I do during sex), and picnic stuff (kinda like I do during sex), then waits for the movie (kinda like I do during sex). This week they played the 80’s classic, 16 Candles, a timeless piece of cinematic brilliance that transcends the ages and still makes me wanna bone Molly Ringwald, in spite of her last name constantly making me think “ringworm” (kinda like I do during sex).

Sunday, and I’m not joking, I woke up with my hair still looking great. Now don’t get me wrong, both Saturday and Sunday I showered, washed my hair, and re-applied copius amounts of product. But each time my hair magically snapped back into position, as if it had been trained by abusive animal trainers that cracked a whip at my scalp, making my spikes jump up onto their hind legs and dance. It was quite glorious.  I took my fabulous faux-hawk to an AA meeting in Pacific Palisades where I enjoyed quality time with some sober people, listened to an interesting speaker, and marveled at how many hot girls are recovering alcoholics. Had I known this was the case, I’d have quit drinking way earlier in life. Granted, I have not, nor will I probably ever, actually spoken to any of these sober chicks, but it’s fun to pretend.

Following my feeble attempt to involved myself in a 12 step program, I went home to involve myself in another program. The Bad Ass Frank Show, internet television program. My buddy Jeff, a photographer, brought over a 20 year old aspiring model to do a photo shoot in my studio (dining room). He shot the pics, I shot the video, and the first official BadAssFrank.com Girl photo shoot/episode is in the can. Speaking of which, I would have gladly put it in her can, as she had a very nice, round can. Look for a teaser pic later this week.

Speaking of teaser pics and girls with hot cans, I spent the remainder of the day with my friend Holly Randall, one of the worlds preeminent takers of dirty pictures.

She wanted to scout out a possible location for a shoot, a “bus graveyard” she’d heard about on the internet. Knowing that everything you read on the net is totally and completely accurate, we decided to drive the almost two hours to where The Hills Have Eyes and see what, if anything, we could find. We did, in fact, find what amounted to a parking lot full of old buses, surrounded by a fence and more barbed wire than I have hair product. That’s a lot of fucking barbed wire. As we were unable to procure a set of wire cutters, we decided to drive down some deserted dirt roads, past a “Catfish Pond” which basically looked like a brown mud puddle, and into an area populated by rocks, empty cans left by people who huff from cans, and one car full of said people who huff from cans. There, Holly decided to do a test shoot with me as the subject. I acquiesced because A) I like pictures of myself and B) I was hoping that me posing shirtless would spontaneously cause her to pull up her dress and scream “put it in my butt”.

Luckily I got some pictures of myself (although I’m still open to the anal sex!). Here’s proof of the hot hair hoedown that was my weekend.