It was the late 80's - early 90's, when mullets ran wild and free. At that time I had quite a bit of hair, and to keep it perfectly coifed required a LOT of hairspray.
No, I will not be posting a picture.
I spent many more minutes in front of the bathroom mirror, than you, or Dick Cheney, could get me to admit to.
Anyway. One day I was at my dad's house -- having spent the night -- and was in front of the mirror primping and preening, getting every lock of hair just right. Then I reached for the hairspray, and sprayed. A lot.
Then I sprayed some more.
A lot more. It didn't seem to be holding.
Obviously I needed MORE hairspray. Spray, spray, spray sprrrrraaaayyyyyy, SSSSSPPPRRAAAYYYYYY!!!!!
It wasn't holding!
As I went for the ninth round of spray, I happened to look at the can I was holding in my hand.
But, you know what?
My hair didn't sweat once that day.