Frank Blanchard of Dover, Delaware earned his place in the Guinness Book of World Records with a single eyebrow hair measuring 3.7 inches. "I don't know why it grows like that, it just always has," he told reporters.
I'm at the wheel of the old man's car and he's in the back seat, and there's a state worker wearing a yellow vest stopping traffic and the old man has started moaning like I've never heard before, says his left arm hurts bad, his armpits are on fire. He's got the hair too, my old man, but he's always had the barber trim his and can't understand why I cultivate mine. Nor does he like the Greek philosopher look and loves to trot out that Marine bullshit in his Foghorn Leghorn voice, Why would a man farm on his face what grows wild on his ass? He's just mad because mine is longer. Sometimes I pull on the hair which is strong as a bread tie. Sometimes I wink at my hair in the mirror. Now the old man is wheezing about blowing the h—h—horn. The problem is, other than pointing at the TV to tell me I ought to get a job on QVC, Dad's got no hobbies—or so my wife says, but she doesn't like my hair either. Last night in bed she wouldn't kiss me because of the photos of my hair in The Dover Post. Tomorrow I'll interview with Matt at University Auto Sales—he saw the article and read that I was currently seeking employment—this will be the first interview where I haven't had to use my Modelco skin-colored wax to smooth the hair down. Or maybe I ought to smooth it down—I'll ask Mom what she thinks. She has a couple of long nipple hairs—not world record long, but long enough to stick out of her blouse at breakfast this morning, to make me spit up my oatmeal and really piss off Dad. Matter of fact, that's when he got huffy, which led to our sitting here in this traffic. Sure, I've seen Mom's hairs before but I'd forgotten. She said they began to grow like that when she was nursing me. I could shoot down the shoulder of the road. I can see the old man's shoulders heaving in the backseat through the rearview mirror, looks like he's trying to sit up or something, while I'm admiring my hair, I see it's smart, actually. I'll leave it like this tomorrow, see what happens.
–originally appeared in Serving House