Danny’s Guide To Personal Grooming and Fashion
I was walking out of the supermarket near my office this morning when I passed a woman who had committed the mortal sin of leaving for work without drying her shoulder-length hair. Her head was covered in a matted mop of wet, curly blackness that bore striking resemblance to the pubic hair of a late 1970s porn king after an especially squishy romp on a leopard-skin loveseat with a top-heavy, coked-out starlet.
Now, don’t get all upset and accuse me of being the possessor of a wandering eye. I am not in the habit of closely examining the personal grooming habits of strange women, but this pube-headed goober’s Monday morning faux pas was thrust in my face. How can you NOT notice something like that? It’s like being kicked in the nards with a steel-toed cowboy boot. There are just certain things that should and should not be done when it comes to personal grooming.
1. If you are going to wear open-toed shoes, kindly sand back your toenails so they don’t protrude past the front rim of your flip-flops, pumps or Birkenstocks. Nobody wants to see your Gail-Devers-ass toenail daggers or see the sparks that fly backward every time you drag one of your Neanderthalic, two-inch-thick paws across the concrete when you walk (even if they’re painted Sassy Ass pink and decorated with little white flowers --- which, by the way, makes your feet look like a piece of wallpaper from the China Palace bathroom).
2. Perfume is nice when it’s a squirt or two on your neck, but those of you who douse yourselves with so much potpourri-scented pisswater that you make yourselves smell like the linen closet of an octogenarian are doing serious damage to both the ozone layer and the septums of the men you try to seduce. Christ, some of you smell like my parents’ Maltese does when it comes back from the dog groomers.
3. What’s the deal with mascara that leaves big old globules of black soot on your lashes? Some of you look like you have aphids crawling up your face. Do you have any idea how distracting it is to ask a female coworker about when she might have the TPS reports done only to see her stop mid-sentence in her reply to fish a piece of hardened mascara the size of a peach pit out of her left eye?
4. This just in: we can see the cavernous crevices under your caked-up on makeup. We know you had a big zit on your chin because you ate half a pint of Chunky Monkey and in a fit of rage and fear, you picked at it until it popped a wad of white zit goo all down your face. Big whup. It happens to us, too. Save yourself the money and the trouble of smearing that ashen slop all over your face and just tell us about the sound it made – “Squirtsch!” – when you popped it. It’s a great conversation starter.
5. If you want to wear a g-string, fine. If you want to let it peak out from the waistline of your pants, have at it. But please don’t let it hike so far up your back that men are forced to imagine that the underwear is so far up your ass that if you yawn, we might be able to see it wrapped around your uvula.
6. If you want to ask us about the kind of car seat we purchased for our children, please remove the Crest White Strips from your Cheerios-box-yellow grill first.
7. If you’re going to wear a mini-skirt, please also remember to shave the back of your legs, where your hamstrings are. Nothing like walking behind a woman who looks like a runway model in the front and The Bride of Sasquatch in the back.
8. If you can fit a two-liter bottle of Pepsi between your tits, please wear a bra with that shirt. Nobody wants to see your droopy, disgusting primate tits two inches from your waistline, cavewoman. And we certainly don’t want to see your hairy, dinner-plate-sized nipples peaking through the weathered “Porn Star” shirt you’ve tragically elected to wear to work on Dress-Down Friday.
9. Whatever the reason may be that you choose to break the air-tight seal between your dentures and your top gums and force the fake choppers outward with your tongue, please make sure that your mouth-breathing doesn’t produce a high-pitched whistle that distracts your coworkers.
10. Got a hickey? Wear a turtleneck. Nobody wants to have to imagine what you and your crack-showing, donut-eating IT boyfriend do in your own time, especially if it means that he sucks the Cheetos crumbs off of your neck with such ferocity that it leaves a bruised welt in the sh