The other day my coworker was looking at me askance and after a while of that she asked what was up with my hair. I had to think about it for a moment and then I remembered, "Oh, I probably didn't bother to comb it today." That's not nearly as bad as that sounds. My hair is crazy thick, stick straight, and hangs where it wants to hang so about the only difference when I do comb it is that there is some vague semblance of a part.
HER: You really need to do more with your hair.
ME: What do you mean? I take it with me wherever I go. We do a lot a together, me and my hair.
HER: That's not what I mean...
ME: Oh, you mean I should attempt to tame it. That way lies madness...
HER: I think you could do something if you tried.
ME: I've tried. My hair is feral. There is no hope.
The Fine Print: More Club Scrap "Equestrian" (mostly).