I hate your stinking guts. You make me vomit. You're scum between my toes! Now that I got that out...
WHAT are you doing? You think you can just twist yourself up in here like you own my head? No sir! Who do you think you are, Hurricane Sandy? Screw you.
Since July, you’ve spent every one of your mornings ruining mine. First, you couldn’t even have the decency to show yourself. I’m freaking Stevie Wonder over here feeling around for the source of my new hair flow only to find a crater on the BACK of my head. You evil devil.
Then, you thought it might be kind of nice to settle in the suburbs of my head. Thought it’d be nice and cozy there, did ya? Here’s your eviction notice you little child of satan. If you were going to put this unwanted split in my hair you could have at least done it right. But no, you decided to act like some sort of drunken Moses and perform some sloppy separation, crookedly down the left side of what used to be my pretty average head. You’re drunk. Go home.
By the way, why now? What gives you the RIGHT? I’ve gone almost 23 years without your stubborn existence and I’d like to carry on with my happy life just the way it was before you opened up shop on my skull. You appear, completely out of nowhere, and think you can run this joint? I think not. I may have backed down when you ruined my classic ponytail look but I will not stand for this hairstyle prohibition any longer! It’s my hair and I’ll wear it down if I want to.
Just so you know, your unbridled birth is one I despise and I will fight to your death. Ignore the comb and hairspray, those were simply warnings. The battle has just begun and you’ve got another thing comin, mister.