They say that every good relationships require some form of sacrifice. Julie had it easy, all she had to give up was eating red meat, sleeping with the lights off, dressing up like cereal mascots, and using the word "philanthropist", but for me, it was getting over my disgust of loose hair. Don't get me wrong, I love hair, when it is firmly attached to the scalp. But once it loses it's hold and falls out onto a nearby table, or chair, or in some unsuspecting sap's sandwich, it becomes something I have always despised, especially when wet. The way it clings to you for dear life like you were about to give it up for adoption. Or the feeling of it stuck somewhere in your mouth, and you're not quite sure where but you know it's there somewhere, and no matter how much you swish your tongue around or lick your hand you can't find it, till finally you locate it after several minutes of strenuous agony only to find out that it is a minuscule eyelash and you think "what was the point?".
Though the greatest atrocity of all for the former members of a hairdo would be how they collect in the bathtub drain. When I go to take a shower I am often greeted by one of these nasty little hair patties. If I fail to remove it before taking a shower it haunts me by spinning slowly like a helicopter blade. If it should catch my eye for more than a second it puts me into a repulsed, yet inescapable, trance and find myself in one of several different astral planes. Not much unlike the dog in this video.
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