So I’m in the grocery store, cruising the aisles when I crossed paths with an interesting pair. Pair of what…that’s another story.

It appeared to be mother and daughter. Mother appeared to be in her sixties, daughter in her late thirties or forties. Both were on the heavy set and – how shall I put this delicately – a bit on the plain side. No, wait, that’s too delicate, they were butt ugly and in need of diet pills…fast. But there were two real take aways from this encounter, and the Mother’spoorly fitting false teeth were not one of them.

First, the daughter was sporting a mullet the likes of which I have not seen since that Lita Ford/Poison concert circa ’88. The tail went down to her lower back, like it was aspiring to be Crystal Gayle’s do, and she had severe bangs in front. This was a terrifying look. Really.

Then, I read the text on the Mother’s dingy, ketchup stained sweatshirt. It read “My grandkids are cuter than your grandkids.”

Now, I don’t have grandkids, but if I did I would really have to take issue with this. I mean, presumably this woman is a Grandmother to the children of the mullet princess she was shopping with. And if that is the case…damn.

Just…

Damn.

These were some seriously visually challenged people. My eyeballs actually ached from the encounter, and other than taking a quick read of the sweatshirt, I barely looked. Most of my take away came from a peripheral glance to assess the scope of the mullet. Can you imagine if I’d made eye contact? My face my have done the wax melt thing that happened to the bad guys in Raiders of the Lost Ark. Nazis look into the ark of the Covenant and their faces melt off. Non-Nazis look into the eyes of the mullet princess and…well what else do you expect to happen?

But maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’m misjudging something here. There are always those magazines features about the plain Jane parents of supermodels. Maybe the mullet birthed children of normal visage. Maybe looking at her children won’t make your face melt. Maybe they even have reasonable hair styles.

And anyway, didn’t I read somewhere that mullets skip a generation?