I never had lice as a child. But as an adult? Twice. And both times I got it from my son. I got it from snuggling up close and reading to him. From loving and hugging him. From brushing his hair. From sharing my jacket with him at the movies. From letting him sleep next to me after a nightmare.
Basically, I got lice because I was a nice person.
Jerks don’t get lice. They’re smart. No hugging. No whispering in someone’s ear. No sharing. No caring. No wearing. Just mind your own business, stay jerky and move along. Oh sure, they have no friends. But hey, they have no lice either. Pretty sweet.
Now for those of us who just can’t do it, who can’t channel our inner dicks, it’s good to have friends like mine who own a lice clinic in Miami. Here you can see Grady and I getting our beauty treatments. He got to watch movies on an ipad and I got to enjoy a thirty-minute heated scalp massage while sipping my Dunkin with one pump of caramel. We both left bug-free in shower caps and stopped at McDonald’s for milkshakes on the way home. It was a good day.
Lice Clinics of America. It’s not for jerks.