When one is bored one finds ways of amusing ones self (easy now...). I am a self confessed amatuer hairdresser- people leave me alone for long enough and I will cut my hair, or tidy the kitchen. The latter is under control, the housemates are occasionally grateful and I am my mother's secret favourite. I can tell.
Last night/this morning at 4am I could not sleep, I could not listen to music, my room was tody, I had no desire to study, so I did what any normal 22 year would do under the circumstances. I cut my hair. Just a little bit mind, don't want to make a dogs dinner of it or anything. I wish I could say that is desire only occurs in dribs and drabs and that i infact never give into the urges- this is not the case. I would estimate that I take out the scissors to the fringe at least once a fortnight. My parents are understandably confused as to what this hobby will possibly lead to. My father has suggested I clip the dogs coats and stay the fuck away from my hair as I dye it so much too much touching of it could lead to it falling out and a bowling ball effect (that is a PJ Guiry direct quote, these a rare- very difficult to pin down an actual meaning, but this tiime I think I get it). In other words my parents would like normalcy to reign over me and my head of hair. Maybe Peter Mark would hire me...
SHAKESPEARE..... "Billy Bob "the shack" Shakespeare is a 1970's pornograohic director from Galway, he dealt mostly in the farm animal theme and his influences were....." My exam went that well.
Shopping for shampoo + karma resulted from calling your (adoreable) friend a midget and retard in the same sentence leads to.... a messy handbag when the bottle explodes and saturates all other food items in the bag. God watches out for his favourites.
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