Today I was walking by the "butt hut" outside our building where all the smokers gather and give off carcinogens. Strangely enough, none of them were smoking, but one was sniffing an open bottle of Heinz mustard and passing it around to everyone else. Dude, if you run out of cigarettes, there are DEFINITELY more interesting ways to get your fix...
...I have now counted at least five people who work at the Census Bureau with real, bona fide mullets. For awhile I tried to convince myself that it was just tragic misunderstandings on their part, where since we all get to work around 6:45 am, it must be too early to really see the back of your head. But then one morning I was heading towards the bathroom when one of said Mullet-Peeps emerged with a large bag, (this particular mullet specimen being one of looong, frizzy, permed and bleached blond hair) and upon entering the bathroom, I was overwhelmed by the stench of cheap hairspray and realized, good grief, it's on PURPOSE!
I think anyone who goes to beauty school should be required to sign an affidavit swearing that they will NEVER give anyone a mullet hairstyle or anything similar unto. There should be a mathematical quotient for the ratio of the shortest layer to the longest layer of hair. Wait! I could calculate this magic quotient! We could publish it in textbooks all across the country, heretofore known ever after as Keng's Constant. I want a cool Greel letter too. Xi! NOT to be confused with "chi". Oh yeah.
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