Post #13 from Kidlit’s Crankiest Curmudgeon’s Blog–

No, no, I don’t go to hair salons. I go to a barber shop, thank you very much. (Though actually the last two times my mom cut my hair and nobody could tell the difference, least of all my hair.) But we were driving — Confession: I wasn’t driving. I’m using the editorial “we” here — in Cary, NC, and we saw this sign for a hair place and the name was Curl Up & Dye. My mom started laughing and — I hate to admit it — then she had to explain the joke to me. But even if I WAS a dumb bunny at the time, I think it’s a cool name for a salon.

Husband: What are you going to do today, honey?

Wife: Oh, I want to go to Curl Up & Dye?

Husband: Oh, no, don’t say that. I’m sorry for saying I didn’t like your brussel sprouts last night. They were really quite excellent. Let me help, please!

Wife: What for? I just want to go to Curl Up & Dye. It’s time for a change.

Husband: What?? Don’t you move, sweetie. I’m calling 911.

So congratulations to Curl Up & Dye. BTW, I looked it up on the web and it gets tons of ***** reviews.

Sorry I didn’t have anything to rant and rave about today. Hope you’ll forgive me.

From Dr. Crankenfuss, your (out-of-sorts) Cranky (but certainly not Stanky or Skanky) Curmudgeon

P.S. That title for the post comes from Julius Caesar, the Shakespeare play. They’re making us read, uh, be tortured by it in English class. No wonder the Roman Empire fell. They bored everybody to death by speaking in iambic pentameter all the time.