I let my hair fly normally today. I don't normally talk about it, but it is now indescribable.
I will give it a try though. Seriously.
If you were so inclined, I'm thinking it would work well to scrub dirty pots. No joke. My hair isn't just wool. It's steel wool. Yes. The element: steel, as in: "You are a magnet, and I am steel."
Cheezy '70's easy listening aside, I can't tell if it is because I let it hang dry naturally, or if it had to do with the misty conditions outside, but well? Damn. Steel.
That steel.
Not blue steel. If it had blue steel, I am pretty sure it would not be in this predicament. That is a reference that has been circulating a lot lately. I have no idea what it means, other than Ben Stiller making a stupid face. Because, you know what? I live under a fucking rock, and I get most of my media information via friends, who pay more attention to that sort of thing than I do.
I think it's better that I don't know, truth be told. I just... don't care enough about Ben Stiller to even look this up.
I should name it Dan. Then I could call it Steely Dan.
Steely Dan moved to Portland. And they live on my goddamned head. They are NOT going back to their old school. Oleander is poisonous, anyway.
Damn. I just looked in the mirror, and I am looking a bit rough. Like Captain Beefheart rough. That's some rough, right there. That's the my, oh my!
-H
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