You say tomato I say Fraggle Rock. I know enough about Beiber to know that your obsession with him is wrong on every level of every dimension in every universe out there, including the string theory, so there. And can someone PLEASE get that boy a haircut already? Or an Herbal Essences commercial? SOMETHING?
Touch his hair and I swear to Jeebus... One of these days, Alice! One of these days!
I happen to think it's absolutely dreamy...
I could wash his hair for hours... and then spend even longer brushing it--but not with any brush, oh no. It'll have to be the highest quality, natural boar's hair brush, to help bring out that gorgeous, lustrous shine... And I'd use a nice, spray-in conditioner... probably something that smells like sunshine and morning dew and babies--babies smell magical, but you wouldn't know, being the dried up prune that you are.
And it'll be just what you always wanted: Your own little head of Beiber hair. You'll name it George, and you'll hug it and pet it and squeeze it and pat it and pet it and rub it and caress it and...
Hey, I know what babies smell like. I happen to like babies, so long as they aren't mine. How dare you sir.