When you’re having a ponytail emergency, you DEFINITELY don’t have time to scramble around looking for one tiny goddamn elastic when you bought 40,000 of them two fucking months ago. Here are a few tips we’ve put together for finding those misplaced little fuckers, because goddamn, where the fuck did they go?
Check your car. Root around in the crevice between the driver’s seat and center console. According to a Goody spokesperson, this is a likely spot to find a veritable treasure trove of lost bands, especially those in the Toyota Greige color range. Melissa Marshall of Dover, DE, reports that she once extracted “87 motherfucking ponytail holders” from under the front seat of her Corolla. That’s a lot of fucking ponytail holders!
Look under your bed. Do you take out your ponytail holder before bed? You’d fucking better, since 100% of beauty magazines warn that you will tear your over-processed, almost-shoulder-length hot mess into even worse condition if you sleep with that shit in your hair. Unfortunately, that means the space under your bed is beset by a violent war between dusty hair elastics and dusty stray hairs. It’s gross as shit and you will hate every second of it. Pro tip: Use the flashlight on your iPhone. No, you don’t need a fucking app for that. It’s already on there.
Pry open Rufus’s mouth. Has your dog been a busy fucking asshole? He probably ate a bunch of those little fuckers. Take him to the vet and spend all the money you’d set aside for that solo trip to Branson (hey, we don’t judge) and get them removed surgically. Give them a quick soak in the sink with some Palmolive and they’ll be good to fucking go.
Clean your goddamn couch. Could they be lurking in your cushions? Probably. Call it spring cleaning and do a little sofa spelunking. What? No fucking ponytail holders? But you found a scrunchie? How dirty is your fucking house?
Go to Target and buy some fucking more. This is a popular and elegant solution, and one that adds to the $200 billion in profits made by Scünci last year. Just toss a few in your cart and call it hair insurance. Be sure to try out the new grippier “Sportz” ones—those have to be a little fucking harder to lose track of, right? They fucking better be.
If all else fails, just keep about eight or so on each wrist as a failsafe. Yeah, it’ll cut off your circulation, but that’s a small price to pay to always keep your coif in the half-ponytail your mom hates. Remember not to stretch those little fuckers though, cause they’ll get fucking lost, too!
