I’ve been making fun of my mullet for some time now, and I’m sure you’ve been doing the same. It was deserving of ridicule, for sure.
Anyway, I awoke on Wednesday morning and headed to the bathroom for a shower. As I passed the mirror in the hallway, I stopped to rearrange the ridiculous bed-head that I had going on. Apparently I sleep on my side, because my hair was sticking straight off the side of my noggin. I looked so absurd, in fact, that I couldn’t wait the ten seconds it would have taken to get in the shower without fixing it.
Anyway, as I ran my hands through my hair, it dawned on me that I was capable of putting my hair in a ponytail, something I had never been able to do previously. Intrigued, I retrieved one of my female roommate’s hair ties from the living room and — with disturbing fluidity, given my lack of ponytail experience — tied my hair back.
I nearly vomited all over the mirror.
You do not want to see me with a ponytail any more than you want to see a femur broken in two places. I’m talking creepy, child-molester-van shit, folks.
Anyway, let’s assume that Wesley (of The Princess Bride fame) is doing things correctly.
Suffice to say, I called the salon immediately and scheduled a hair appointment for that afternoon. Since that time, I’ve received nothing but comments like, “Wow, you look presentable again,” “You look way older,” or even, “Dude, you look way less effeminate.”
Without further ado, I’d like to introduce you to the older, more presentable, less effeminate — though by no means less creepy — version of me.
Now, I know what you’re asking yourself: “Did I really need to read a blog post about mullet removal?”
The answer is obvious. Of course you didn’t; in fact, I’m embarrassed for you, and I’m the one writing this shit. However, that’s what is going on in my life right now, so that’s what you get to read. Thank god for the internets!