Back to the salon last week to see Urs and get a few pounds of hair removed from my head. I love my weird little communist collective hair place. The customers offer you coffee (half of them look like they just live in their barber chairs), and apparently the special for this week was a free "scalp inspection", which you all will be pleased to know I passed with flying colors. But to get back to my story, as Urs was just settling in to start cutting he paused, scissors in hand, and locked eyes with me in the mirror. "You like funkee, yes?" "Yeah, funky, go for it." "I can do... awesome funkee?" I had to think about it for a second. I mean, clearly the modifier indicated that this was beyond a standard level of funky, which was mildly concerning, but it was also advertised as awesome. I like awesome! Unless it's the strict dictionary definition of inducing awe, which could be bad. But what the hell, right?

So, anyway, I have bangs now.

I'm starting to get that old familiar ache of mediocrity and routine. I have this poetic urge to hop on a bus to nowhere with a notebook, pen, and a head full of acid, only people on the bus smell and there's no high speed internet and eventually I'd get hungry and past experience has proven that acid makes me want to dig out the evil parts of my brain with a spoon. (Protip: on acid, all parts of your brain are the evil parts.) What would you do while tripping out on a bus for hours, anyway? Back in college my friends and I once taped our mushroom-induced profundity, only to find the next day that our brilliance was reduced to giggles and people shouting about how their hands were really big. I'd probably end up burnt out and lost in Wyoming** with a notebook full of stick figures grining through giant sharp teeth, and really given that outcome I'd rather stay home and wear comfortable pants and watch Gossip Girl again.

Maybe I'll just be like most people and get drunk and get an ill-advised tattoo. "Grammar 4 Lyfe" in red ink with roses climbing over the letters. Yeah. That'll liven things up.

** I'd like to give a shoutout to Mari here, my compatriot in drunkenness on New Years Eve. At some point I was grasping to name "that state that starts with a Y", and she shouted out "Wyoming!" which was indeed the one I was thinking of. Booze makes me smrt.