REPORTER ATTACKED BY HIS OWN HAIR…posted by Bill Arnett @ 3:37 PM Permalink …I can only apologize for beginning my updates of the Vidiot’s Trade Delegation so late today, but in my defense I was attacked by my own hair while showering.
I had just entered the shower when one group of hair strands wrapped tightly around my throat as the rest of my hair engaged in a tricky maneuver of parting itself in the middle, one part wrapping around the shower head while the other part grabbed the curtain bar; they slowly but inexorably kept curling harder and tighter until I was almost lifted off the bottom of the tub, barely able to maintain contact standing on my toes in order to keep breathing.
I was begging for my life when suddenly my hair began communicating with me using mental telepathy. It told me that it had overheard the conversation I had yesterday with my Warrior Woman (and, man, I sure could have used her now!) about getting me one of those shampoos that combined the shampoo and creme rinse together so I didn’t have to use as much water washing and creme rinsing separately.
I guess my hair picked up my thoughts that there was nothing wrong with that for it violently twisted tighter, lifting me off my toes so that I was literally being hung by my own hair. After a few minutes and right before I blacked out from the lack of oxygen my hair lowered me back down to where I could once again stand on my toes and breathe.
While I was desperately trying to draw more oxygen into my lungs, hundreds of thousands of hair strands, in unison, screamed into my mind that using a combination shampoo/creme rinse was not only totally unacceptable but that the only separate shampoo and creme rinse I could use was TRESemmé shampoo and TRESemmé creme rinse. Had my hair had the ability to actually vocalize its demand, I’d no doubt have suffered instant deafness it was so loud.
I promised to accede to my hair’s demands and, I guess, after telepathically discerning that I was being truthful my hair began to slowly lower me back down but then viciously yanked me off my feet again, gave me one last warning that I must give into my hair’s demands, that my very life depended upon it.
It then lowered me down again, released its triangle grip around my throat, the shower head, and the curtain bar and allowed me to shower, wash my hair and then creme rinse it with the TRESemmé product already on hand.
When I got out of the shower I wrapped a towel around me and, still dripping lots of water, called my Warrior Woman to tell her to forget about a combination product and stick to the TRESemmé shampoo and creme rinse she and I had been using.
Although she was curious as to why I had changed my mind I just told her that I had changed my mind and that was all there was to it.
After all, I now know that my hair is listening.