So, True Story, I was on the fence about whether or not to get a haircut, but then I was in a Subway station and something dripped on me and that took the decision out of my hands and put it in the hands of the God of Nasty Things in the Subway. He decreed that I should banish the hair from my head, cut it off with blades, then sweep it with brooms, and if it still isn't dead enough, throw it in the trash. So he said, and so it shall be.

Sincerely,
Adam Cornelius Vanderbilt Hussein.

...Or so I would be saying if I disgusting sicko sick lady didnt come insist on coming into work and then into my office and coughing and hacking and gurgleing and being nasty and snotty (literal snot, not behavior wise) all over the office in general and the phones specifically. I had to practically dip the phones in grain alcohol. Erg.