I shaved my legs this weekend, need I say more? Drudgery? Oh no, it was glorious, if only I could have gathered the pretty dark hairs and grafted them to my scalp I would've been all set. I am damned sick of seeing my shiny head. I was fine being all bald, but this middle ground is driving me nuts.
I should be in the shower, I have rads in 45 minutes but I'm procrastinating because I don't want to go, I'm really sore and could do without this last week. I'm on a mission though, to steal a Johnny for my halloween costume, I hope there's some good ones in the laundry bin. I complained about the nasty signs and there was neither compassion or action, so they get what they get. Bad behavior begets bad behavior. I'm going to be a mental patient -- shock treatment, cause I got this patchy white hair sticking straight up why not use it? A few months earlier I could have put a lightbulb in my mouth and been Uncle Fester. Figure I'll wrap my wrists in bloody gauze. I'd rather be a prostitute or movie star in a sexy corset, worked the cleavage, but that ship has sailed, got to work with what I have. I'm actually regretting not working the cleave when I had it, ah well, hindsight.
I'm going to a party with a "hobo ghost" wearing a sign that says "will haunt for food". I started to ponder the political correctness of that, but stopped myself. Little boy can be whatever little boy wants to be.