Thursday, September 24, 2009

My Penchant for Little Old Men has Met its Match

Dear Sir,

You almost had me with the slow driving Lincoln Town Car. Your hands at 10 and 2. Leaning closer to the wheel as you strained to see if the light was red or green. The sun-bleached box of tissues on the back ledge. I'll bet you are wearing loafers today. You are, aren't you? I knew it!

But even I have my limits.

Your haircut looks tidy and well groomed but I think it might be time for you to find a new barber. One with depth perception. Because the handlebar EYEBROWS have got to go. At the red light I could see them both from BEHIND you!! They are wider than your face! And when I passed you in the right turn lane, they stuck out as far as your nose! And that's saying something.

That paranoid feeling you've been having? The one where you feel like you have bugs on your face? It's not Sundowners Syndrome. IT'S YOUR FREAKIN' EYEBROWS!!

Tweeze and trim, Man. Tweeze and trim.

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