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get them all cut
Saturday we went out for haircuts. Lori gave me crap about my mysteriously-darkening hair color, and so, once again, to all the planet's English-speaking peoples: I DO NOT FOR GOD'S SAKE DYE MY HAIR. Check the Samoyed-white temples if you require proof. If I dyed it, it'd be a fabbo deep blue or something. Utena bubble-gum pink. Whatever.
We drank coffee on the mall and watched the carousel. This was much more fun than it sounds, since other people's children are endlessly entertaining and require little to no maintenance. I found a Little Apple Doll for $7.00, and Mom got her usual economy pack of knee-high Hanes. Ours is an exciting existence.
Finished Sailor Moon R. It ends with a clip show. If you've never seen it, imagine one of the Lost clip shows, edited by William Burroughs and narrated by a thoroughly coked-up Soleil Moon Frye.
Meanwhile, there's a new Joe Keenan novel out. I'll be in my bunk.
We drank coffee on the mall and watched the carousel. This was much more fun than it sounds, since other people's children are endlessly entertaining and require little to no maintenance. I found a Little Apple Doll for $7.00, and Mom got her usual economy pack of knee-high Hanes. Ours is an exciting existence.
Finished Sailor Moon R. It ends with a clip show. If you've never seen it, imagine one of the Lost clip shows, edited by William Burroughs and narrated by a thoroughly coked-up Soleil Moon Frye.
Meanwhile, there's a new Joe Keenan novel out. I'll be in my bunk.
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