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The History of the Mullet
Throughout the history of fashion in the world, there has been a plethora of bad hairstyles, none of which is more prominent than the mullet. Yes, that's right, mullets, you've all heard of them and chances are you're related to someone who has one. But do you really know anything about them? Hopefully by the time this class is over, each of you will leave here with a little more insight on the hair mystery that is the mullet. From origin, to some modern examples of this fashion phenomenon, to a lesson on the recognition of modern mullets, you will all leave this classroom informed.
In order to fully understand the mysterious mullet, some key terms must first be defined. According to http://unc.edu, a mullet is "a haircut which displays hair on the top of the head that is significantly shorter than that found on the side of the head". It is this SFLB (short-front, long-back) hairstyle that has become so rife throughout our modern world.
Although not much is known about the t
Cassie's HymnCassie, my Cassie
Your name in Japanese is Kashi (like the cereal)
You have a mullet
but you're proud (at least I can find you, in a crowd)
You look like a boy... in many ways.
Small dice hang from your ears,
like the 8-ball from my mirror.
You're boots are pleather,
and you look like a hooker.
You dated Screech
(I'm so sorry)
I hated you at first, because you look like Fred Durst.
But it's cool,
You go to my school.
We're good friends,
And money you've got to lend.
For this beautiful poem,
Volpi.You will find that the story you tell
is very rarely your own. In Lucca,
even the smallest pebbles
breathe in the warm sunlight.
Knotted stones and cobbled roads
beat out a paper-dry heartbeat heat
my city breathes in and out,
inhales sparrow air.
It's writing a story.
You are the pen.
You will find that in Lucca
the daisy chains forge fire
in side streets and back alleys.
Teenagers intertwine. Tell me,
odd flower, are you still closed?
Here we are colored wax;
the heat of the city melts us.
We run into each other, rhapsody
of pigments. Operas are our specialties.
Open up; feel the reds.
If not, try and see them. There is a place
of deep knife marks, a street
long as midnight
you may learn something there.
Valentina's voice glimmers like red wine.
You may enjoy intoxications. Still,
know alcohol has no story
and will swallow your own.
Find the sign with the wolf on it.
You'll know the place. Epiphanies ring true as church-bells.
Lucca still guides the wanderers
to well sp
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