I’m not sure what to make of this.
The last time I said that, I was holding a boob.
Like riding a bicycle, my ass.
I was sitting in the bathroom stall the other morning, dropping the Cosby kids off at the pool.
For the second time.
A “deuce squared,” if you will.
I was sitting there playing Sudoku on my cell phone when it happened.
On a side note, try playing Sudoku while in a bathroom stall and then saying out loud:
“Oh. So THAT’S where the number two goes!”
Regardless, I was sitting there with my phone out.
When IT floated down.
No, not Pennywise the clown.
It floated down…
… and deftly draped itself across my phone.
I watched it in it’s last few inches of travel.
And there…on my phone keypad…
Was a hair.
A goddamn hair.
A long, gray hair.
* blink blink
What. The fuck?!?!?
A long, gray hair had somehow magically wafted down from the heavens and landed strategically across my cell phone keypad.
And I know that it's certainly not mine because the hair I actually DO have is shaped like the Florida peninsula and is about a ½ inch long.
I just realized that I also just described my penis.
I cry sometimes.
There...on my phone...
Big, gray hair that’s not mine.
I looked up, fully expecting to see Colonel Sanders peering over the stall wall next to me.
Colonel: “How’s about you try my new Kentucky GRILLED Chicken, son?”
Me: “Grilled chicken? Here’s what I think of your grilled chicken.”
* insert massive poopie noises here (I like imagining Oprah after eating a chalupa..well..I don't LIKE to do it..but sometimes I just do)
Grilled chicken. WTF.
Hey, Colonel Sanders, I like my chicken like my women:
I have no idea what that means.
No Colonel Sanders was there with his bucket of awesomely tasty original recipe.
I stared at this long gray hair for about 2 more seconds before I came to this realization:
OMG OMG OMG it was a FUCKING HAIR THAT DRIFTED IN FROM SOMEWHERE ELSE IN THIS GODDAMN MEN’S ROOM!!!
With all the energy I had left (I was winded at this point because, honestly, I eat big)…
I blew that elderly follicle right the Hell off.
Jesus H. Christ.
That was close.
I do not know from where this mystery hair came from.
All I know is that I quickly pushed out the rest of my joyous happy bowel movement (JHBM)…
(20 more minutes counts as ‘quickly’ when I'm 'in the zone')
…and high tailed it right the Hell out of there.
Then I got me some tasty chicken.
Oh, Colonel, how your coleslaw taunts me.
Aren’t you supposed to be wearing a hair net?