'Can I touch your hair?"
Okay, this ranks up there with, "Does it hurt when you get pierced?", as one of the most annoying things I hear on an almost daily basis.
Greaser Lesson Numero Uno: most of us in the rockabilly community 'pomp' up our hair.
Most use Murrays pomade.
I don't.
It's heavy, takes forever to wash out of your hair, ruins pillow cases and towels and just plain annoys the fuck out of me.
I use a sculpting putty and hairspray.
If you're snickering as you read this I promise to show up at your doorstep with a sledgehammer and will proceed to crack open your cranium and feed it to the pigeons in Central Park.
Oops, pyschopath-tangent there, apologies.
Anyway, lets cut to the chase. I have sticky-uppy [hooray for the new word!] pompador deal going on.
If you say it looks like Morrisseys hair, I promise to walk you up three flights of stairs, push you down those stairs, walk you back up them and then proceed to push you down a final time.
Where was I?
Damn tangents.
Ah.
Hair.
So, on a regular basis I have to explain to the mouth-breathers how, "I make my hair do that."
Last night I was hit with an epiphony.
Every time they ask, I'll simply respond, "It was after having great sex with your mother -- it just DID this."
It left one girl with a mouth so wide open you could of driven a truck through it.
I then giggled like a crack-head scoring his first fix of the day after excusing myself to the bathroom.
It's okay, kids, she came back and talked to me later. I explained it's one of those annoying questions I hear too often.
She understood.
Then I hooked her up with my friend.
Go me.
-Scotty
PS - Bailey Appreciation Week is in full effect -- I bought a Baileys Irish Cream shake from Checkers and I danced naked to an Irish gig while wearing my Elvis shades.
Just kidding.
About the shake, that is.
Okay, this ranks up there with, "Does it hurt when you get pierced?", as one of the most annoying things I hear on an almost daily basis.
Greaser Lesson Numero Uno: most of us in the rockabilly community 'pomp' up our hair.
Most use Murrays pomade.
I don't.
It's heavy, takes forever to wash out of your hair, ruins pillow cases and towels and just plain annoys the fuck out of me.
I use a sculpting putty and hairspray.
If you're snickering as you read this I promise to show up at your doorstep with a sledgehammer and will proceed to crack open your cranium and feed it to the pigeons in Central Park.
Oops, pyschopath-tangent there, apologies.
Anyway, lets cut to the chase. I have sticky-uppy [hooray for the new word!] pompador deal going on.
If you say it looks like Morrisseys hair, I promise to walk you up three flights of stairs, push you down those stairs, walk you back up them and then proceed to push you down a final time.
Where was I?
Damn tangents.
Ah.
Hair.
So, on a regular basis I have to explain to the mouth-breathers how, "I make my hair do that."
Last night I was hit with an epiphony.
Every time they ask, I'll simply respond, "It was after having great sex with your mother -- it just DID this."
It left one girl with a mouth so wide open you could of driven a truck through it.
I then giggled like a crack-head scoring his first fix of the day after excusing myself to the bathroom.
It's okay, kids, she came back and talked to me later. I explained it's one of those annoying questions I hear too often.
She understood.
Then I hooked her up with my friend.
Go me.
-Scotty
PS - Bailey Appreciation Week is in full effect -- I bought a Baileys Irish Cream shake from Checkers and I danced naked to an Irish gig while wearing my Elvis shades.
Just kidding.
About the shake, that is.
does this mean you will show up at my doorstep now??
(leave the sledgehammer at home, sweet)