Apparently asking to have one shirt and one pair of pants dry cleaned in the span of five hours is entirely impossible short of slipping c-notes through the drop-slot along with the pants (which reminds me, i didn’t check the pockets for cash…).
So, i am still not packed. I never pack until the last minute, really, so actually having picked out the clothes i want to take with me and laundering them seems to be a huge step in the right direction if you don’t count against me that i just gave my favourite three pairs of pants to the dry-cleaner who will guard them safely behind bullet-proof glass until Wednesday. That’s three less things for me to pack, i suppose…
thoughts
Okay, so, that’s how my hair is supposed to look. What it actually looks like is… um… frosted cherry nail polish. However, my webcam doesn’t seem capable of picking up the subtle (highly metallic) nuances of frosted cherry, so instead it displays the color i meant to get my hair dyed to. Isn’t it ironic? Yeah, i really do think. Apparently i left the dye in about an hour too long after leaving the Chop Shop (i decided to walk home, it was pretty outside, i screamed along to Weezer on the way).
Nothing cures a bout of depression like a violent haircut and $40 worth of imported cd singles, that’s for sure.
Which would you rather do? : Blithely inform your mother that you want to see a psychiatrist about potential clinical depression or Blithely ignore your mother as she examines your roommates pipe and asks what she uses it to smoke.
Well, i’m a lucky little fuck, cause i got to do both today.
I have a pimple on my nose. A big, red, pimple.
I am not the most serious person in the world about skin care, but i am not a fan of pimples because i look silly enough without them. I used to have all sorts of hydrating things and alleviating things and concealing things for just such an emergency, but that was in high school. Sure, they all came with me to the dorm freshmen year, but i haven’t really had a big red nose pimple for years. And, here i am.
At least god can’t make me go through puberty again … (crosses fingers)
(last thought of the night: is a crush a round emotion or an angled one?)