Man, I need a haircut. No, seriously, it’s getting out of control. I think I have quite a start on an afro over here. Soon Ethiopians will be mistaking my overgrowth as the bush, and I will have to beat them away with a broom to keep them from using my head as a toilet.
I’m feeling pretty shaggy over here. This hair is weighing me down. I feel like I should either join a peace protest or join the cast of ChiPs.
Maybe I should market myself for hair-care commercials. “Shampoo A left the right side of my hair tangled and stringy. Shampoo B gave me strong, virile hair. I was able to braid that side of my head, and then monkeys used the braid to swing through my living room.” “This hair gel has such strong hold that I was able to spike my hair and use it to skewer invading Visigoths!” “I like purple. It’s too bad certain peoples had to appropriate the color for their own perverted schemes.”
OK, that last one has nothing to do with hair. I’ve just always wanted to say it.
Man, I need a haircut.