I never expected to find myself registering for year two of the mullet contest, but here I am, ready to unleash my inner business-in-the-front, party-in-the-back country boy. It all started innocently enough when my mom bet me to continue to let my Kentucky waterfall grow. Determined not to be outdone in the hair department, I spent hours in front of the mirror perfecting what can only be described as a masterpiece. Now, surrounded by mullet enthusiasts and a few bewildered grandparents, I'm beginning to think taking the bet was the best idea since trying to eat a whole tub of ice cream in one sitting.