I'm driving home from work today, bumper to bumper traffic, one hand on the steering wheel and the other lazily draped over the gearshift (the way it always is) when I look out the passenger window into the car next to me and catch sight of the most jaw dropping example of mullet-itude I may have ever seen in my life.
This wasn't just about business in the front and party in the back. This wasn't some hockey player trying to stay rock and roll without upsetting the way his helmet fit on his head. This wasn't some homage to Ziggy Stardust or Joan Jett.
Which sucks because now all I can do is try to tell you about it, rendering it about as believable as that fish I almost caught, how big my band is in Europe, or my girlfriend who lives in Canada (I met her at Niagara Falls -- you wouldn't know her).
But I swear, this thing was legendary. It was like a supermullet, a Jesus among mullets -- a Jullet, sitting right there in traffic next to me. It was so filled with mullet-y goodness that when other hairstyles go to sleep at night, they dream about coming back as this mullet. It was ridiculously spiked on top in a way that made you feel like it was going to be the subject of some sort of "mullet idol" celebrity judging panel -- and believe me, this one was going straight to Hollywood.
I mean, I'm a normal human being who like you wouldn't be caught dead sporting a hairstyle like this, but even so it was impossible to escape the enormity of this thing. It was like that magical half-hour after seeing that ESPN highlight of Tiger Woods sinking a putt where I wondered if golf could actually be something other than mind-numbing bullshit.
Unfortunately as I wasn't really expecting to come into contact with this living and breathing tribute to the power of your second cousin's can of Aqua Net, I didn't have time to prepare an appropriate response. Surely there's got to be a catchphrase or something the mullet people use -- but if you're not up on the lingo, what's the best thing to say?
This wasn't just about business in the front and party in the back. This wasn't some hockey player trying to stay rock and roll without upsetting the way his helmet fit on his head. This wasn't some homage to Ziggy Stardust or Joan Jett.
It was the Ultramullet.Almost immediately I was reaching for my cell phone, trying like hell to kick in the camera so that I wouldn't be the only one forced to suffer the squidbilly that had attached itself to this guy's skull. But I guess I was too dumbstruck by the sheer apedrape-ness of the thing to make my phone do what it was supposed to, and by the time I got it working the light had changed and people were honking at me to move.
Which sucks because now all I can do is try to tell you about it, rendering it about as believable as that fish I almost caught, how big my band is in Europe, or my girlfriend who lives in Canada (I met her at Niagara Falls -- you wouldn't know her).
But I swear, this thing was legendary. It was like a supermullet, a Jesus among mullets -- a Jullet, sitting right there in traffic next to me. It was so filled with mullet-y goodness that when other hairstyles go to sleep at night, they dream about coming back as this mullet. It was ridiculously spiked on top in a way that made you feel like it was going to be the subject of some sort of "mullet idol" celebrity judging panel -- and believe me, this one was going straight to Hollywood.
I mean, I'm a normal human being who like you wouldn't be caught dead sporting a hairstyle like this, but even so it was impossible to escape the enormity of this thing. It was like that magical half-hour after seeing that ESPN highlight of Tiger Woods sinking a putt where I wondered if golf could actually be something other than mind-numbing bullshit.
Unfortunately as I wasn't really expecting to come into contact with this living and breathing tribute to the power of your second cousin's can of Aqua Net, I didn't have time to prepare an appropriate response. Surely there's got to be a catchphrase or something the mullet people use -- but if you're not up on the lingo, what's the best thing to say?
Fergalicious?In the end he drove off so fast that I never really got the chance to say anything, which was probably for the best because you never really know when something meant to be complimentary might be taken the wrong way.
Weeeee Doggies?
Who lawnmowers your head?
Just get back from the rink, Lemieux?
But I do know one thing:If I ever see that hair again, I'll be sure to let it know that Chuck Norris admits
he was wrong and just wants it to come home so they can be a family again.
[Listening to: Social Distortion, "Bad Luck"]
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