My hair feels like the gossamer wings of cherubs. And do you think I have to style it? No! I just snap my fingers and it takes the shape of a pompadour.
Oh, and my hair is made of cherubs. It is endowed with allegorical meanings which flow freely from its tips and shoot arrows into the hearts (and sex magnets into the pockets) of passing strangers.
When Elvis died his spirit left his body and entered my hair. Now my hair strokes my cheek and sings me to sleep at night ("Love Me Tender" is one of its favorites) and is exceptionally adept at taking care of business.
Ilectra said:
So ready to cop a feel, now that I got a lifetime pass.. I hope its good on holidays...
The birthday girl from TONIGHT! Brown hair and all..
There are no blackout days. Redeemable always. So pretty. Love that color too.
phrogg
Greenville, SC
August 2005
JAN 31, 2012 12:08 PM