Hello, God? It’s me, Fashion Mullet.
Stamped: March 30th, 2007 | Toggle Similar
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Dear Hair Stylist Gerard,
So, we're officially fighting. And by fighting I mean I want to stab you repeatedly with those little swords they use for cocktail onions. I would sincerely like to know what part of "I'd like a trim" in English translates into "fashion mullet" in Hipster. I walked in with beautiful layers that oh-so-hotly rested on my breasts and now the longest lonely layer is almost above my shoulders – and there’s nothing hot about it.
Are you insane? Have you taken the pot smoking a little too far? Your girlfriend TOLD you not to get that vaporizer, fuck-wad.

More importantly, do I LOOK like the kind of girl who has the wardrobe to rock a fashion mullet? Come on now, work with me here, Gerard. I came in wearing a black wife-beater, frayed Sevens, flip-flops, and gold hoops. Granted my jeans were a little dirty but still! I play soccer on Saturdays and drink expensive wine. Get real. Low-maintenance hotness is my jam – not some bullshit haircut that I have to load up with $50 product and then SLEEP on to get the desired look. I’m just not that committed to looking cool, sorry.
I mean, I suppose it’s not entirely your fault. I blame myself really - and the intellectual curiosity that had me buried in an Economist while you were chopping away like a sushi chef after an eight-ball of Colombia’s finest.
Truthfully, I should have known the second I laid eyes on you - your skinny jeans, your oversized high top sneakers and the dirty bed-head that looked one hundred percent legit. You are a hipster. You are a VitaSoy drinking, anemically thin, black-hoodie wearing, fashionably dirty, Warhol-loving, cloyingly ironic, HIPSTER.

But, I am Irish and neurotic, so whatever. For the most part I enjoy hipsters, I have hipster friends, I even went so far as to buy those footless leggings (not that I’ve ever worn them), and I certainly don’t condone discrimination against hipsters in any way, shape, or form - BUT from this moment forward they are no longer allowed to cut my hair. So I hope you’re happy Gerard, you’ve really gone and ruined it for all your fixed-gear riding brethren – way to go.
Now they really can’t afford that six-pack of PBR.
Fuck You Very Much,
Lo
Last 5 posts by Lo
- To Slut or Not to Slut, That is the Question... - October 26th, 2006
- Sidle on Up to the Booty Bar - October 20th, 2006
- Slacker Central - October 12th, 2006
- Lo's Weekly Rant: I Call Bullshit. - October 5th, 2006
- Lo's Church of Unattainable Men: Part Deux - September 28th, 2006


Oh, do I ever sympathise. I hate mullets, always have, and going to the hair stylist is a nightmare because they insist on giving you the latest trendy recycled caveman type Waah-Mummy-I-cut-off-my-Barbie-doll’s-hair ’style’. Ugh.
i have missed your posts Lo. hopefully you now have a fully functioning computer and internet connection, wherever you are. still canadia?
jr