Groovy
Stephen, the cashier at our local Trader Joe's said, "Hey, I really like what you've done with your hair."
Clearly, I visit Trader Joe's often, if a man points out that he noticed my hair. Of course, who wouldn't? The fluorescent lights make the burgandy stripe at the front of my hair really stand out.
"Thanks," I replied. "I think it is all a part of my mini-mid-life crisis, but I like it."
"Oh no," Stephen says, "It's groovy."
"Well, thank you. Have a great day."
And I'd love to believe Stephen. I'd like to think that it isn't a part of me going crazy, but I can't trust him. You can't trust a guy wielding a sharp instrument and you can't trust a man that still uses the word groovy, right?
Clearly, I visit Trader Joe's often, if a man points out that he noticed my hair. Of course, who wouldn't? The fluorescent lights make the burgandy stripe at the front of my hair really stand out.
"Thanks," I replied. "I think it is all a part of my mini-mid-life crisis, but I like it."
"Oh no," Stephen says, "It's groovy."
"Well, thank you. Have a great day."
And I'd love to believe Stephen. I'd like to think that it isn't a part of me going crazy, but I can't trust him. You can't trust a guy wielding a sharp instrument and you can't trust a man that still uses the word groovy, right?
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