My mullet has grown to monster proportions. It’s creeping down towards the bottom of my neck, but is still at least an inch away from tidy ponytail length. It’s precisely long enough to stimulate the white trash gland that makes one crave Miller lite, bags of ketchup chips, and Jenny Jones.

This must not be allowed to go on.

I am making an emergency stop at the salon to get a trim on my lunchhour, before I start chewing tobacco pouches and scattering car parts around my cubicle.

9 thoughts on “Mullet-tastic

  1. You have a mullet right now?

    I knew there had to be an extra special reason I liked you.


    Mmmmm…ketchup chips…

  2. ooh, I have a hideously tacky t-shirt with ripped sleeves and a crying eagle on the front wrapped in an American flag that you can borrow, also, a John Deer Tractor hat, replete with grease stains.


  3. a pair of (dull?) scissors and a good friend (any joe off the street?) work in cases of emergencies. hell, you don’t even need someone else. do it yourself!! SAVE YOURSELF MOIRA! SAVE YOURSELF!!!! aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa……

    uh.. um …. that is all.

  4. this my be to late..


    I can help. I’m your friend and can help yopu through these difficult and trying times.

    ps, my gayness can help your body image issues, im the long lost memeber of the fab 5

  5. Yeah, our white trash don;t eat ketchup chips. They drink Pabst Blue Ribbon.


  6. Party in the back
    Yet still Business in the front
    Perfect compromise?

    courtesy of the mullet haiku archives


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *