With all this girly hoopla that's floating around in my head, I must talk for one minute about how my hair is really taking all of this no-dye stuff pretty hard. Sure I have at least 5 inches of root (is that even considered a root at this point?), and yes, the ends need a hair cut worse than Mel Gibson in Braveheart, but it doesn't look so bad. Until I step into dreaded-dressing rooms and see tons of little sticky-uppies hanging out all over my part. Fuckers.
The Dark Four, Schmeon's band, debuted a lovely & talented (only Eliza will see this reference to Mrs. Holmes & Language Arts) show at the Launchpad, and I'll be damned! My baby can sing sing sing! As Shaba put it, "It sounded like he was having sex, a little bit. Hmm." I was quite impressed by ol' Schmeeedy's performance. I was so nervous, I chugged three Newcastles and nearly dropped each one.
I'm listening to Pete Yorn right now, which is a cardinal sin to some, and yet, an apathetic query to others. What say you, Balthazar? I say that I feel as though a list is needed at this point - thus, we shall have a list entitled "Heroic Names That Are Now Very Trashy":
1. Dante (Shit jeeb - how incredibly trashy is this name. I cannot think of a single "Dante" that hasn't wanted to climb, screaming, out of his trashy inferno)
2. Hercules (Anyone naming their child this is an idiot. An idiot.)
3. Damian (Also - reminiscent of "Dante." I think the Hell's Angels started this fad of devilishly baaad names)
I'm sick of my list already - but let's ponder some truly bizarre choices for names. I've never met anyone named "Hamlet" - it must be that dread & doom clause (even Shakespeare-readers are superstitious a la Stevie Wonder). No one calls their children "Lucifer," "HellKat," or "Handmaiden." Hmm. I wonder what they would have named Rosemary's baby.
I have to go buy a mask for my face now, laddies. And then I shall place me garb around me waist! And party! Wooooo!