For A Little While

I slept on my couch last night because it was grossly hot and the air conditioner is in my living room. This means that my bedroom was a sweltering stink oven and I tried lying down in there only to find myself in a puddle of my own fluids just minutes later. There was no way I was going to sleep in a puddle. My puddle sleeping days are long over. I,m a grownup. I don,t have to stand for that so I didn,t. I dragged my skeletal form from my sopping bed onto my filthy couch and basked in the quiet cool.

I don,t have a big home so the living room got pretty cold very quickly. I woke up in the middle of the night shivering. I loved it. That,s something I,d like to experience every night. I,m sure it,s not good for me. Going from broiling hot to bone-shakingly cold in a matter of an hour can,t be healthy, but I don,t care. It didn,t kill me and I swear I could almost see my breath this morning.

Portable Sunsets - Bless I cut my hair the other night and did a pretty bad job. The haircut is sort of alright, but I cut my hair with a four inch razor and I was rushing through the process because cutting your own hair is stupid and I gave myself a nice little slice on the thumb. That was the bad job. I feel like I haven,t cut myself in years. More specifically, I feel like I haven,t needed to use a bandage in years. I did this time, though.

My ugly thumb would,t stop bleeding so I slopped some weird goop on it and taped it up. Luckily, I don,t have any human bandages in my home so I had to use brightly colored children.s bandages that had pictures of dinosaurs on them and said things like ,,Silly,, and ,,Rock.,, I think the one with the dinosaurs made me stronger and the one that said ,,Rock,, made me cooler.

Smiling At Nothing

Haircuts are such a hassle. I guess they,re probably not a hassle for everybody, but they,re definitely a hassle for me because I,m stubborn and poor and refuse to pay somebody to cut my hair. I bet for most people they,re enjoyable. They get to sit in a chair and relax while some weirdo moves razor sharp pieces of metal just inches from their eyes and most valuable veins and arteries. Then they get to go home looking nice and different. It sounds a lot better than what I do.

I stand shivering in my bathroom for forty minutes while I chop crooked lines into my head and cover myself and the floor with millions of hairs that I then have to meticulously clean up afterward. You,d think that a normal vacuum would be able to do the job, but you,re wrong. Those hair pieces fly into every cranny, every nook, every hole. You have to get on your hands and knees and carefully pluck them one by one from their hiding places.

George FitzGerald - Fading Love Then, after all of that, I don,t look nice or different. I look like I just gave myself a haircut. Everybody can tell. Everybody knows I cut my own hair. There is no way a professional, somebody who does it for a living, would allow such a strangely diagonal neckline. Is that what that,s called? A ,,neckline,,? I don,t know. I don,t know because I,m not a professional. The bottom line is that no matter how many mirrors I use, the back of my neck always looks bad. That,s the price you pay for not paying a price.