At lunch today, a friend of mine told me she is “frightfully concerned” that a nuclear-armed Iran will eventually be the turning point that “leads to the ultimate downfall of the West.”
Which, sure—that’s all well and good. But would it have killed her to tell me how nice my hair looks?
Well, Iran and the bomb could lead to a Nuclear Winter.
So maybe Laurie David, Cheryl Crow, and Gore will shut up.
And your hair won’t frizz in that climate.
Me? I don’t have any so I could give a rip.
“Hey, Jeff—nice abs!”
Well, since I’m mostly bald, the concept of your having hair, however nice, is, quite frankly, immaterial.
What was that about Iran?
Gimme that Z—-O–L–O–F–T
Gimme a grip
Make me love me
Your hair looks nice, Jeff.
Whereas mine? I can’t do a thing with it.
Does she only care about the bleeding crowd?
How about a needing friend?
Have you tried radiation? I hear it works wonders.
Lunching with the elite academia crowd again, huh? Those worry warts.
I believe that’s “worts,” Sticky.
If Jeff’s hair were shaggier, I’d say Bush fatigue.
You sure? A “wort” is unfermented beer.
Your tired talking points about an Iranian connection to your hair have been thoroughly debunked, wingnut.
Not only am I a member of the nuclear, er, hair club, I’m the FREAKING PRESIDENT!!
So is that the root of “worthless”, then?
“Wonders” is right. I had to let the hair grow back to hide the third ear.
Even since my therapy, my one testicle is much larger than the other two.