4:15 p.m. - December 23, 2002
Can a guy have a bad hair day?
Had my hair cut today not by Johnny (he's on vacation) but by the glamorous Can't-remember-her-name who is always fun to talk with but cannot cut my hair. I look like a ping pong ball with fuzz, like Bert or Ernie, perhaps a combination of them both:
Whomever it was that said fiat justitia, ruat caelum, all I can say is I'm there with ya, bro! It is not flattering. Sister, upon seeing me post-cut: I can see your eyes clearer now! I, too, sense a dodge.
Yeah, who cares I'm doing the thing the thing the thing! tomorrow, especially cuz you know, I don't want to impress anybody there. Of course not.
A[deleted]a's coming over in a few minutes and is will be invited inside. She thinks I'm up to something but I'm not, simply today's stretch exercise. Wait, that sounds ominous; just the let's-work-with-boundaries Plan of mine.
