Fighting the Tangles

So, the mighty Spills is growing her hair until April, apparently. Her friend/nemesis Donna is growing her hair until May. Fine. Except that someone has to comb Spills' flowing tresses. Actually, they don't flow so much as they knot and kink and tangle.

And while you're trying to drag a brush through the extended nest that is the top of Spills' head, she is engaged in saying some or all of the following:

"Is it okay if I move around like this while you comb my hair?" Then she proceeds to sashay hither and yon while doing a kind of Michael Jackson "Ooh! Ooh!"

"Do you like this?" Repeatedly poking me in the hip.

"Are you done yet? Are you done yet? Are you done yet? Are you done yet?"

"I don't want the elastic, I want the hair band. I don't want the hair band, I want the clips. I don't want the clips, I want the elastic. I don't want the elastic, I want the hair band and the clips."

"I already combed it. Why do we have to comb it again?"

"Ow! You. Are. Hurt. Ing. Me."

"When you pull that hard, it feels like BLOOD."