ACCOZZAGLIA

Yep, it worked. Yep, I’m floored Scott didn’t try using it before. Yep, I look like a natural curlyhead (which I am, sorta, but the hair I expose to the elements tends to straighten out, while the hair under my neck corkscrews). Yep, somebody won’t be seeing a free bottle of Phomollient in their mailbox.

I didn’t get a hell of a lot done yet. This is a bad thing. Aside for some fun with microphones and being an aural exhibtionist, shooting with shit with blueberries, cleaning the washroom (whee) and making one out of three appointments (it was with my très cool dyke therapist, which was the most important appointment to make right now). Like I said, dullsville.

I have some MIH prep stuff to do for tomorrow night, so that should keep me busy this evening. And engaging conversation. And stuff.

Is it not obvious that if I don’t go outside, I don’t mention much about that outside world? Lately, moi the homebody has been that way, partitioning private and public affairs more decisively than I can remember in recent memory.