Confessions of a hairdresser friend.

The other week I took a bustrip over a long weekend to go visit this couple I know from my hometown and their three children.

On the late afternoon of the day I left, me and the hairdresser of the couple and one of the kids go out to walk their dog, and like two-fifths of the way up, the dog stops to shit.

"I'm not going to pick that up now," my hairdresser friend was like.  "I have to wait a while, it really grosses me out if I pick it up warm."

"Me too," I was like.  "I've always found that very gross, I can't handle that shit!".

Then, I realized what I had said, and I was like, again, "I mean, literally, I can't handle that shit!".