I went to the salon today. Got my hair trimmed.
For a few days I've been toying with the idea of ceasing to dye my hair. I haven't had it natural in a while. Well that went all to shit when Agnes told me I'm fucking GREYING!!!
Fabulous. Fucking fabulous. She said I have a lot more grey hair on the sides than I did last time I was in. I have some pretty significant roots, that's how she can tell.
Stupid asshole adoption agency couldn't let me know I'd be getting grey hair at 25!! ENOUGH GREY HAIR, IN FACT, THAT MY STYLIST COULD TELL THROUGH A DYE JOB!
Well sure enough I went home and looked and found them and was ready to die. So that's it for me. I might as well get fat and develop some sort of Delta Burke OCD packrat disorder. I have plenty of time to slip into senility now that I won't need to bother having sex or a social life for the next 25 years until everyone I know starts catching up to me in the aging process.
If you need me, I'm checking into the fogie home. I'll be sure to hold up a sign so you can tell me apart from all the other withering inmates because God knows there's no further way to tell us apart.