"There are rules for the mullet hunt..."

Translation: you never see an episode of COPS where someone with a mullet doesn't get shot...what are these rules you speak of?!?

Well, Pete was the discerning ear I always ran my blogs by before submission, so bear with me. The dog so loved to critique.


(See, he was more than happy to help and laugh at me even when I wasn’t funny so now you all must do the same…)
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When I lived in Texas, I really thought we cornered the market on mullets. I am pretty sure you’re all familiar, but a mullet is a hairstyle best described by Google image searching “Joe Dirt.” That’s right…when you decide the mullet is the right hair choice for you—you’re embracing a lifestyle, not just a trend.

Needless to say, I thought the rebel hair choice known as the mullet would be long gone as I waved to Texas in my rearview mirror and headed to the North. There are few things I have been more wrong about (like the catastrophic time I decided tequila and Goldschlager would pair excellently, or my prediction that the Spice Girls would last forever…oh Past Me, you were so jubilantly foolish).

But when I arrived, Michigan turned into a proverbial “Who’s Who” of the mullet wearing community. Men, teenage boys, grown women, babies, dogs…they all had mullets. I know you question the validity of a dog being able to sport a mullet, but hello, a poodle with overgrown hair is totally rocking one (mental picture status: EPIC). No one is safe.

But there was one in particular I saw today that literally stopped me dead in my tracks, mouth agape, eyes wide, breath ceased in horror/amazement- horrazement. This man was dressed in tattered jeans, and a cut off tee sporting a WWE Raw logo (your first hint he’s quite accustomed to the mullet lifestyle), and work boots. He was wearing a lime green camouflage fishing hat. While usually I would be pointing out the obvious misstep of wearing a lime green hat as camouflage- we have more important things to worry about. Upon removal of the hat/locating device, a mane of long, wavy hair unfolded down his back, nearly to his plumber-peek-a-boo-asscrack, however- in the front it did not do the same.

In the front he had the most impressive Elvis impersonator swirl of hair I have ever seen. It was almost as if you separated the two hair styles you would have Fabio standing next to Mr. Presley himself. Needless to say, I scrambled for my blackberry while trying to muffle my hysterical fit of laughter not to make too much noise.

But I was scared if I got close enough to take a picture, the sheer force of the thing would suck me in and cause me the sudden urge to rebuild a 1975 TransAm or name my first born Cletus (or Bobby Ray if it’s a girl- cause dammit I ain’t raisin’ no sissy!).

I really must apologize to y’all (see I was a good 20 feet away and it affected my grammar) that I was not brave enough to take a photo. This was definitely the most epic mullet I’ve ever seen. But I don’t think I could embrace, let alone, pull off the mullet lifestyle- so please...forgive me for the sake of my barely there sanity and ability to dress and leave the house without looking like my electricity went out.

I thank you ahead of time.

P.S. Anyone reading this with a mullet- I apologize, and I gotta say- Jared Allen is my favorite football player of all time (but did ya’ll a huge disservice by choppin’ that thing off).

P.P.S. I'm really proud I made this entire post without once referring to the mullet credo of "business in the front, party in the back."