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Oh, my ever-loving GOD! Where did
I put my hair gel? This can't be happening to me. I'm usually more careful
and prepared than that. I would never intentionally let down the community
by introducing such an aesthetic and emotional hazard such as my untendered
coif into its neighborhoods. Maybe there is an agency that can meet this
need for the good of the greater good. Perhaps there is some FEMA or American
Red Cross gran that I am eligible for so that I can replenish my supply
of hair gel or --if unavailable -- some form of styling mousse or some other
hair care product that provides volume, body and shine and won't cause split
ends.
And WHERE IS MY PEN?!? The one that enables me to write on black paper!
It was right here in my...oh, here it is. My bad.
But let me get back to the ongoing tragedy of my hair. I curse the evil
genius who developed alcohol-free styling products. (Gestures a crusing
gesture). They doom us mortals into thinking we can have hair like the
gods only to hurl us back down to earth with not even our frizzied mortality
to break our fall. (Shakes fist in the air).
Damn you, Vidal Sassoon!
To Hells with you, Jheri Redding (or however you spell your gay name)!!
Piss off, Dep!!!
GO BACK INTO THE TUBE YOU WERE SQEEZED OUT OF!!!
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