The One Where Things Get Hairy

Chipmunks, this is undoubtedly the most polarizing post I’ve ever published.

If you make it through, I’ll know where we stand.

Once upon a time, this came into my life:

Wait for it…

Maybe I should back up. Speaking of backs, that’s a bag of back hair.

My father-in-law’s back hair.

Still with me? Okay, good. It really makes perfect sense. You see, a guy’s gotta shave his back, and my mother-in-law heard sprinkling hair around the perimeter of your property keeps deer away.

And if the deer are away, Peppermeister‘s (Husband #1) garden is safe.

And everybody’s happy.

Though this was a surprise to us, it was like it was meant to be. Like recycling between father and son. Mother Nature at work.

…No? Are you saying you’re against recycling and Mother Nature? You probably just want us to shoot those poor deer, don’t you? Wow.

The day we were given the back hair, my sister-in-law (SIL) caught sight of the exchange, and, well… She was less than pleased. Disgusted might be the word. Yeah. That’s the one.

So, naturally, there was only one thing to do.

Before we left the family gathering that night, Peppermeister hid the bag ‘o back hair in SIL’s cooler. Specifically, the cooler where she keeps her children’s food.

Because…obviously.

Over the next few months, we found various unsettling ways to keep the back hair traveling between each other’s houses. It landed anywhere but scattered around the perimeter of our house, clearly destined for greatness.

And then it went missing. For months.

Until last Saturday, when I did my yearly cleaning.

Well played.

Thank god. I should really clean more often.

Do you have any ongoing pranks / inside jokes that tickle your back hair fancy?

P.S. – Watch your back, SIL. Watch your back.

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104 responses to “The One Where Things Get Hairy

  1. Oh my gosh!! This cracked me up!!! I love it!

  2. Our family had a seat belt buckle and a shower cap that made the rotation at Christmas every year. I will never forget being 5 or 6 and leaping down the stairs to rip open my presents. I will also never forget the utter disappointment when instead of the toy I really wanted, my first gift was a seat belt buckle. I am totally doing this to my children.

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