Thanks a LOT Ladaaaays...

There's this kid who's been showing up around here just about every damn day since oh...I'll say the middle of October almost 8 years ago. So we feed him and make small talk and all that sort of thing, you know, and I'll venture to say we've come to a rather comfortable conviviality between us. He stays over at night and keeps a toothbrush and some extra clothes around, so you see how it is.
Well. I don't know where this kid went, but he is gone like $2 gasoline. Got this other kid now who really could be the other kid's brother, honest to God, but this kid is different from the old kid. Really different.

Now, I'm not one to make waves (hush now), so I figured we'd all go along with the new kid for a bit and see how it all pans out. So far so good. They wear the same size and go to the same school and all that, but this new kid, he came with hair gel. Hair gel that he bought with his own money (so you KNOW he's not my kid if he's picking up the tab). Some dollar store vat of blue goo with Sport on the label.
Don't nobody panic. They can smell fear.
So tonight this hair gel-carrying kid decides he wants to take a bath and relax. RELAX.
WTF? be cool, mommy, be realll cool.
Kid comes out of the bathroom after what I must assume was a relaxing spa-esque event and every last bit of his general hair area is sealed, plastered, decoupaged in blue sport goo. I mean his hair is blue, that's how much blue goo there is. I know. How much blue goo is left? How much could be left? Rest well, dear friends, it's a big vat.
He likes it. He says his hair smells "fresh." And it's "shiny". (Oh ho, yes baby, it is de-fi-nitely shiny) Tells me he "wants to get a head start on good hair for tomorrow." Oh sweet mercy. I mean, really. I frankly will be shocked if he's able to get that head of pre-gelled good hair off his pillow by the time that sport stuff dries.
And I am waiting on that Bourbon, Lord. (Isn't that part of a Psalm? Me and God, we joke, it's cool)
I do like this new kid. He's pretty funny and any man who brings his own toiletries is a-okay in my book, but I do miss the old kid. Lord, I had to set a simple box trap just to check his shirt buttons, but we had a good long run, me and him.
Now, I don't foresee that trouble with this new kid. As a matter of fact, I'm thinking we're looking at a whole 'nother kind trouble with sport goo kid.

Yup.