Asshole Monday*: Hair Feathers

So coming back from lunch today I had a small rant I was going to post about hair feathers. I was pretty fired up too. Disgusted. Embarrassed for the human race. Rage-filled. All kinds of bad feelings. So yeah, hair feathers...

No, not this kind:

This god-awfulness right here:

I was going to say how they are disgusting even on a small child, and they make older women look like the saddest forever alone chick I ever did see, and it’s more of a blinking, obvious neon white-trash sign than even a tribal butterfly tramp stamp. I was also going to say that there are only two places your kid is going to going in life with feathers in her hair and they both involve meth but only one has a pole. I was also going to throw in that you look a little like a retarded and flamboyantly gay raccoon. There is also nothing else that says to the world “Hi, I smell like garbage,” than having feathers in your hair.

See?

I was going to say all of these things and much more and then I started thinking about something. Particularly hair accessories from when I was a kid and, like this:

And this:

And we must never, ever forget this monstrosity:

And now I am so embarrassed by my own disgusting and sad pop-culturally-influenced hair choices, I am about to braid a tiny portion of my hair, throw three beads on the end and then hang myself with it. 

But seriously, if you love someone, no more feathers. That mess is not hot. If only someone had told me this so long ago...(you're welcome)

*Wednesday