You know you need it: a slang dictionary for all of those curly hair words and terms you hear thrown around.

What the heck is plopping? What kind of weird contraption is a diffuser? What in the name of all that is holy guacamole do pineapples have to do with anything?

Don’t fret, my lovelies. I’ve got you. Like the curl version of the urban dictionary, here is a curly hair glossary for all those crazy terms and words.

Cue theme music.

You need to know how to style men’s curly hair. And you want it quick, simple, and cheap.

Here’s how.

It’s weird but it’s true: Most people love to be scared.

As a little girl I crawled under my blankets at night to read Nancy Drew by the light of a dimming flashlight.

As a teen I discovered the gothic thrills that books like Jane Eyre, Jamaica Inn, and Mary Stewart titles could give me.

And now, as a grown up bookworm, I eat up thrillers like they’re going out of style (thankfully, they’re not).

In fact, if I do pick up the occasional chic lit, family drama, or self-help book, I end up bored and whispering,

Mama needs a good murder…

My family is leery of me, but what else is new?

If you’re here, you’re likely befuddled, bemused, and bedraggled over curly hair types.

What’s yours? 4a? 2c? How do you know? Why is this so hard? Should I give up and flat iron?

Where would Inigo Montoya and The Six Fingered Man fit on a curly hair chart? How do I find The Six Fingered Man? Once I find him, how do I find you again?

In the immortal words of Inigo Montoya,

Let me ‘splain! No. There is too much. Let me sum up.

Inigo

Incidentally, I’d say Inigo’s hair type is a 2C – 3A.

I love throwing stuff away.

My garage is calling me. It’s saying,

Come get these free craigslist chairs you acquired last year and put them out on the curb.

If I obey the call, I can get to the important stuff in there – like my box of sewing supplies, the kid’s off-season clothing, and the contraband supply of Hagan Daaz in my freezer.

Election years make my brain shrivel up like last month’s raisins, found under the baby’s car seat.

It sucks the life out of my normally optimistic mood, and makes me want to unplug every social media site, television, phone, and news platform.

Because I hate politics?

No, not really, though I confess to loving them about as much as I love a slight papercut. That is to say, uncomfortably ignoring them until I can no longer. There are the issues I care about, and about a million others that make my head swim.

But that’s not the reason.