Today I... refused to be groomed.
My parents in all their insipidness believe that I need my hair brushed after bathing. While I can understand their deep need to touch me and feel my silky locks and all their glory (just as the unwashed masses want to reach out and touch their idols), this need to style my hair to suit their needs baffles me.
Do you not understand, monkeys, that the Waakabee chooses his own style (or mode , if you will)?
As you can see, my mother persists in her efforts until she is forced to manhandle me. Way to use your adult strength and power to overcome my free will. Typical abuse by a totalitarian regime. If I wasn't the victim, I would applaud you.
But instead I weep, for now I look like a douchebag. Thanks, mom.