Renaissance Hair

Last night we went to watch the fireworks from on top of the Terrace Place garage, which is as good a place as any to watch them, especially if you love strange architecture, as the fireworks illuminate the Bell South building in many interesting ways.

One of the guys there said that I had beautiful “Renaissance Hair” and then reached over to stroke it. Yes, an almost total stranger was stroking my hair. I didn’t like it, but I didn’t deck him, which I consider to be a vast improvement in my self-restraint.

I’d still like to learn to kick people in the face, though.

“Renaissance Hair.” I’m not sure what that means. But it explains the small blocks of marble I keep finding on my pillow…

Ha, I think that’s probably funny only to me, but picture, if you will, my hair, which is more Keith Richards than anything else. Now, picture it teeming with tiny DaVincis all busy at work. How is that not hilarious?

Advertisements

Aw, Shucks

I just heard from my mom and my dad is out of surgery and fine. It is with mixed emotions that I report that they did not have to give him a peg leg and so he is not about to embark on a career as the Pirate Pastor. That’s probably for the best anyway, as he’s allergic to birds and one cannot be a proper pirate without a parrot.

Anyway, because there is no tale of great harrowing dread to be had with my dad, I instead alert you to the shocking, painful, and a little funny goings-on over at Now I’m Pissed–“Yes, I enjoy a diminished level of clothing. Yes, I enjoy motorcycling.”

As you all know, I’m regularly flabbergasted at the half-assed way the patriarchy seems to have been thought-out. I’m always sitting behind my desk with my skirt hiked up as far as it will go and wondering, as I enjoy the fresh air, why men, with your genitalia that needs to be a few degrees cooler than 98.6, took pants and left us dresses. Let’s just say that the above mentioned post sheds a little light on the possible reason.

Also, when I quit my job and become a custom motorcycle builder (not because I want to build motorcycles, mind you, but just so that I can hang out with a wide variety of men with awesome facial hair), I vow today to make my mark on the motorcycle world by coming up with a bug-shield for a little lower on the bike.

Brief Update

1. A Russian astrologer is suing NASA. How hilarious is that? “Deform her horoscope.” You can’t make shit like that up.

2. They have just wheeled my dad in for surgery and my mom called to report that she scrutinized the doctor and that he appears very “healthy and alert”–the doctor, not my dad. My mom doesn’t want any sick and tired folks working on her husband.