I opened the Spike and I opened up Blogger so now I need to (I didn't finish this sentence because I immediately stood up, went into the bathroom, and cut a good chunk of my hair OFF. In a text to a friend I wrote, "I feel so Olympia, WA right now. Like, 'Look at my asymmetrical haircut that I cut by myself while listening to The Mountain Goats and drinking kombucha that I got at the co-op.'" Okay, so I wasn't listening to The Mountain Goats or drinking kombucha - we all know I was listening to the severely critical voices in my head while drinking synthetic cocaine, but I'm not anal about the details. Anal? Anal is "Lana" backwards and that would be a pretty funny observation if I had an enemy named Lana, but as of right now I don't. In fact, I think I'm on fairly good terms with everyone in my life. How long will that last? This is a question that doesn't have a clear-cut answer. Speaking of cut, did I mention I just cut my hair? I did? Well, Spike, you cause temporary (fingers crossed) amnesia. You also make me really loosey goosey! I feel so sexy right now. God, where is an open pair of legs when you need one, you know? You know. You all know what I am talking about because we are all HUMAN. Humans have desires and fantasies and needs and cravings and all of this leads to SUFFERING, but it can also lead to a really great time.)
So I think I'll go to the bookstore right now and freak out on the general public. And by "freak out on the general public" I mean "read the fiction in The New Yorker while avoiding eye contact with everyone."
By the way, Nic Cage is probably one of the three Nephites.