I just remembered that I dreamed I had a mustache. And I was really self-conscious about it. I felt so silly and sad.
I got a haircut yesterday. It had only been three months since my last one, and I was completely fro'd out. Usually it takes six months to get that froish. And they buzzed the fuck out of me last time, so I dunno where all that growth came from. Maybe somebody's dosing me with Rogaine or somesing.
I was searching my e-mail for something just now and found this in a message to shlorp from two years ago:
I'm totally calling Lowe's for a PVC delivery today.
I'll make sure they give me the industrial-strength
stuff that can handle the tough dirt that comes from
the decaying flesh of a family of eight crackheads.
I think it had something to do with killing my noisy neighbors in New Haven. I had completely forgotten about those bastards! Seemed like a big deal at the time, though. (The noise, I mean, not killing them. Killing them was easy.)