I must sheepishly confess that a few months ago I fell victim to the Trendy Monster and got a euro-mullet-esque haircut. For the first month or so it was smooth and correct, sipping fine wines and occasionally visiting the discotheque. It was a shining example of class with a colorful flare of international accouterment. As it grew, however, I discovered some behavioral changes.
It started ordering Bud Light rather than vodka tonics. Instead of frequenting the local pub to watch Liverpool vs. Chelsea games it signed up for a 14-team fantasy football league on Yahoo.com. It traded in it's super tight capri jeans for some Old Navy carpenters with paint on them. Nascar-branded hats were the only type of headwear it would accept. One evening, when it was very late, I woke up to my euro-mullet quietly weeping while watching Glory on TNT.
That's when I knew the incovenient truth.
My haircut had defected.
No longer was it a swanky, hip and trendy, sophisticated euro-mullet. No sir. It had become a gun-totin', Bible-thumpin, right-wing Ameri-mullet. In a matter of weeks it had managed to brave the waters of the Atlantic Ocean into the open arms of Lady Liberty without my notice. Just now I went to scratch the back of my head and my hand returned with two wrestling tickets to WWE No Way Out at Key Arena. I could get used to this.
This is me.
Not really. But I do have that tie.
Not really.
