I wanted to write in Kitchenese, the secret language of cooks, instantly recognizable to anyone who has ever dunked french fries for a summer job or suffered under the despotic rule of a tyrannical chef or boobish owner. ↗
My secret world of bosom sculpting is crashing down around me. I’m destined for bra-stuffing rehab in a distant boobicus minimus land. I just know it. ↗
Hat head is a sad affliction wherein the chosen hat and the selected hairstyle are grossly incompatible. The unfortunate combination results in a condition that can be hidden only with the application of another hat. ↗