As I was walking to my gate at Honolulu International Airport last Sunday night, to catch my flight to Las Vegas for a well-deserved five days of debauchery and gluttony, look what I saw in front of me:
It was a guy with the world's worst comb-over. Now, I ask you, why do guys do this? When my hair began thinning, did I grow it longer and comb it over a huge bald spot? No. I did the logical thing. I cut it really short.
As the women used to tell me, bald is beautiful. Other have told me they loved it when I had a full head of long hair. But y'know, what can you do? If your hair is going to thin out and disappear, well, so be it.
I've done the Rogaine thing and all it did was make me impatient. So I gave it up.
But never ... NEVER ... have I contemplated, even for a millisecond, sporting a comb-over.
I felt like tapping the guy on the shoulder and telling him no matter what he did with his hair, he couldn't look any worse than with that horrendous comb-over. But you know what? He combed it to look like an egret plume, I'm sure he saw it in the mirror, and I'm sure he thinks it looks good.
Ewww.
I kid you not.
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