to buzz or not to buzz

Yesterday on Blabbermouse, we met young Patrick, the boy with the cheetah scissors who cut his own bangs. And because my life is yourChoose Your Own Adventure novel, I let you decide what I should do next.

You people are insane.

BUZZ IT.
BUZZ IT.
YOU HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO BUZZ IT!

YOU MUST BUZZ IT.
What did your parents do to you that you're so quick to leap to extremes?

Of course some of you said to leave it alone. Or even it up. But most of you said BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ buzz it.

Even my mother voted for the buzz cut. 
She also sent me this photo of my childhood doll Daisy, whose hair I “styled” when I was about Patrick’s age.

You probably want me to have Daisy flown to Nashville so I can give her a buzz cut too. "You have no choice! Daisy can't continue to sit around in your parents' attic looking like that! BUZZ IT"

Buzz! It!Buzz! It!

Buzz! It!

Well, I buzzed it.

Or, rather, Larry buzzed it. And I haven't stopped kissing his fuzzy little head since. (Patrick's, not Larry's.) OH MY GOD SO CUTE I CAN HARDLY STAND IT. EDIBLE EDIBLE. DOUBLE CAPSLOCK BOLD FACE NOM NOM NOM CUTE.

But then guess who wanted in on the action?

HINT: YOU’LL NEVER GUesS.
Because I’m not that bright, I never saw that one coming either. What is wrong with me? How many times will I have to learn the what-one-has-the-other-wants-even-if-its-a-deadly-case-of-amoebic-dysentary lesson?

Look at the little brainwashed Navy Seals.
"LOOK AT THE CAMERA, BOYS!"

"No, seriously. Over here! Look at the camera."

Okay, don't look at the camera.

I have to admit: I like it. And I could never have done it without your votes.