Let Me Tell You a Story About a Man Named Jed

Do you remember that girl in elementary school? The one that smelled a little weird, like wall paper paste and possibly an older person and her parents definately chain-smoked? The girl that sat in the back, wearing an awful lot of poo brown clothes? The one with the greasy hair that was parted down the center--oily as hell at the roots but somehow dry and stringy at the ends? That girl had a very hard time trading at lunch time--because she was just wrong somehow.

Well I know a woman that is creeping up on being the grown up version of that girl. Because y'all, her hair is GREASY. She is a perfectly lovely woman, and its not like she smells or anything. But her hair is just the flattest, oiliest, weirdest thing I have ever seen on an adult that is not in a home of some kind. Today we were talking about showers, and how she has to take one every day, but that sometimes she just doesn't feel like she has time to wash her hair. I don't think its any big deal not to wash your hair every day, but I couldn't help but staring at her roots--which looked a lot like Jed Clampett was about to put up an oil derrick. Everyone has had a day when they thought they could get by and then their hair looks nasty by noon--but this happens to her about once or twice a week. And she has blond hair which means it is painfully obvious.

So I can't stop staring and I can't think of anything to say to her that isn't really offensive. So I assume she doesn't know. But I didn't trade desserts with her at lunch. Maybe she will take the hint.

PS. To whomever sent me the email about Iowa, I would love to respond but you didn't leave a valid email address.

PPS. Somebody leave a damn comment. I feel like such a loser.