Redheads don’t mean to be ballsy. I mean what with that Cloroxed-bleached white skin, fried when flashed with five seconds of ordinary sunlight. Cut’em a break.
Redheads are forced to be something. Come on, you gonna stand there with your head on fire and say or do nothing. Best do something! It’s genetic.
There’s an expectation. Blonds look sexy. Brunettes can be beguiling. Redheads are. Straight out of womb.
So that’s why we try to rein them in. Can’t wear red, girl friend. No ma ‘am, no way.
Poppycock. You show’em girls.
A chorus line of 'em. Jealous, now, big fella?
