What happens
When there aren’t any posts in a while…
Mel B. goes crazy. It’s late. She’s got a password to the blog. There isn’t a category that really fits insane tripe.
What happens when she sees a picture of Donald Trump, these thoughts come tumbling out.
My fantasy is that someone will sneak into the Donald’s sumputous bedroom
one night and give him a haircut.
Every time a see a picture of him, I look, in vain, to see where the bald
spots would be. Sometimes I imagine I can see something through a trick of
light.
I’m just tired of guessing.
Have some respect. We don’t believe that haircut. Many men look sexier bald (though I don’t believe it would help you.)
And if it’s really your hair, then get a decent haircut. It’s like a small
furry animal died on your head.
Now that I’ve written this, someone will carry out my evil plan and the
Donald will buy and sell and buy and sell me a dozen times.
Ah well. At least my curiosity will be satisfied.
