Turd or Hairball?

What does one do when she is in the middle of her morning lap swim and a pack of men in Speedos interrupts her to team-flirt by making really asinine comments about the turd-shaped hairball in the deep end?

If she is me, and she is already feeling insecure in her new kelly green, high-hipped swimsuit, she does this:

She blinks through her foggy goggles and politely laughs when Captain Speedo stretches out his arms along the side of the pool and puffs his chest, winks at her, and says, "Turd or hairball? I know it's a hairball, because I went to check it out. It tasted more like a hairball, so I just left it on the pool floor."

Then, when she can't think of any appropriate response (or any inappropriate response for that matter), she simply dunks her head and swims away. And that is that.