Uh. . .Uh. . .I Don't Know What To Say

OK!  I already wrote in a previous blog I'm about as metro as they come.  I don't give a flyin' feck ('Fook' is more for across the Irish Sea and a wee to the north, though I use both fook and feck about equally thanks to the dialect mixin' mullethead.) about stereo-types, I know what I like, I know what I hate, and I go in accordance with my tastes.  I like bubble baths, I like snugglin', milk chocolate with hazelnuts, and I'm glad I have the genetic background to look decent.  I also like my hair long, and the only place I want hair is on my head, over my eyes, and so it is.

Anyway, earlier the mullethead was brushing my light-red mane out as I sat on the edge of the bed, not quite in a state to be seen in public.  (I am DYED in that picture of me, as I said before. I only did that ONCE, and there was a reason for it.  And being 'Closure' is NOT a work of fact in the remotest sense, it was NOT to seduce a non-existent person called Lucy Verona.)  Her unmodified self, five-inch armpit hairs included; was raggin' on and on about how chicks are programmed to be these vain, superfluous, high maintenance bimbos. . .as I got sporadic caresses here and there, relishing my own unfurry, and unmarred skin.

I continue to sit there, somewhere between contemplating the cross-wired information I'm receiving of her verbal contempt of what I've done to myself, yet her show of appreciation of what I've done to myself, and wondering if I should just tune her out and enjoy where this is going to end up. 

Well, I found I COULDN'T tune her out.  In fact, a lot of what she said was true, and it's not like I spend any time on the waxing table.  I didn't have to.  My unwanted hair was gone for good, not that I was a terribly furry one to begin with.  At least not when I was the age to have made my decision to kill my roots.

As I was drawing to a close of just bein' able to sit there, quite obviously interested in moving on, she says, "But don't get me wrong.  I love what you've done with yourself, and I'm totally behind you on how you got there.  Might do it myself some day, but I have to thank you for one thing!"

She drew it out.  She didn't say what that one thing was.  Eventually I just had to ask "And that bein'?!"

"You kept you NOSE HAIRS!"

Well, I got what I wanted right after, but. . .

YE GODS, NOW I'M GONNA HAVE NIGHTMARES ABOUT ELECTROLYSIS IN THE NOSTRILS?!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!