Boy George

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When I write posts, I’ll often do a couple of quick Google searches to find funny idioms or references to a particular term to make it look like I’m a much greater wordsmith than I actually am.

This post is about George going for a haircut and I was about to make reference to how his hair has gotten a little out of control lately.  I was thinking he’s got a doggie ‘fro, but that sounded kinda dumb, then I thought of saying he looked a little like the lovechild of a feather duster and a mop… but finally decided upon the simple, yet succinct term ‘furball’.

Until I Googled it, and found that the FurBall is an annual dance party held in Amsterdam specifically for hairy men and from a quick look at the website, I’d go as far as saying hairy, gay men… which wasn’t really the mental imagery I wanted.

Anyways… George was getting very fluffy, and needed a haircut, so I took him to get a trim.

The girl at the doggie groomers said she was pretty busy, but if we could drop him off in the next 10 minutes she could squeeze him in.  So Caleb and I jumped in the car, dropped George off and were advised he’d be ready in in about an hour.

When we went back to pick him up, Caleb almost didn’t recognise him – and to be honest, I think the groomer thought George was a girl… so without further ado, let me introduce you to Boy George:

I have to admit, it was pretty cute, but it really doesn’t help him with that whole ‘tough’ lapdog image.  Hey, who am I trying to kid, even without the bow, George is about as tough as I am which isn’t saying much for either of us.

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