Best. Unintentional Compliment. Ever.

Anna was cutting my hair and asked me if I wanted her to trim the back of my low-growing neckline.

"Please," I replied, "It's starting to look like a mullet."

As she took out the razor and studied the hair on my neckline, she said, "Your hair mullets well."

Next time I have a job interview and am asked to rattle off my attributes, I'm totally going to say, "I pride myself on my attention to detail, my work ethic and the fact that my hair mullets well."

If I find myself at the scene of an accident, I'll push the EMTs and Scientologists aside, announcing, "Stand back! My hair mullets well!"

Someday when I'm rich and famous for this silly blog and my column and the re-animated corpse of Barbara Walters is interviewing me on the key to my success, I'll sit back studiously stroking my chin and narrowing my eyes before leaning forward and directly addressing the soft-focus lens. "Well, re-animated Barbara," I'll say, "You may not know this, but my hair mullets well."

Eventually I'll leave this mortal coil. Inscribed on my tombstone will be: Here lies Leigh Ann, her hair mulleted well.

And my friends and family can visit it and never cry because they can remember the fabulousness that was my easily mulletable hair and bask in the joy its memory will inspire.