Hairscut
Miss Cin got her hairs cut--all eleventy-hundred million of 'em--and she looks great! I'm wondering what it must feel like for her, walking around so light and free, with a scant pound of hair on her head. Meanwhile, my split ends continue splitting. I can't complain, though. I would have enough $$$ for a haircut, but I'm spending it on a movie ticket.
Don't even ask what movie, folks. The question will only define you as a casual reader--one who does not know me well.
In addition to the stresses of tresses, I am also biting my nails because I have not heard from Rider in days. I think this time around is infinitely worse. I am much more attuned to the idea that BTCH*, given all my previous experiences with it. I miss her.
Got a little inspiration the other night, and I am now officially at work on the story again. Amazing what some dedicated writing time will do.
*BTCH = Bad Things Can Happen. They won't, but they could.
Don't even ask what movie, folks. The question will only define you as a casual reader--one who does not know me well.
In addition to the stresses of tresses, I am also biting my nails because I have not heard from Rider in days. I think this time around is infinitely worse. I am much more attuned to the idea that BTCH*, given all my previous experiences with it. I miss her.
Got a little inspiration the other night, and I am now officially at work on the story again. Amazing what some dedicated writing time will do.
*BTCH = Bad Things Can Happen. They won't, but they could.
posted by Tierant at Saturday, November 19, 2005
4 Comments:
You know Trants, if you'd write to Rider, she'd write back. Crazy how that works!
Ok, glad to hear Rider was ok -- Trants doesn't email, doesn't call, so I of course assume that you've done something more insane than join the military, and have subsequently been a nervous wreck.
The haircut, however, does feel really good. Doesn't alleviate t-rants induced tension, but other than that is golden. Very, very glad Rider is OK.
Oh, you two! Come on! I e-mail and call...or maybe I'm imagining that I do. Maybe I dream all those pages of e-mails and hours of phoneage. Maybe I'm dreaming now!
You're all just a hallucination, aren't you? Who are you, really? Who sent you?
Answer me! Answer me! Hello? Echo?
Riii-colaaa!
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