Dig!!!

Today I put on a dress and some heels and a necklace and prepared to be on my best behaviour as I was off to the scene of some past violence... but it was all cancelled, so my dress and heels were for nothing. It's okay because it's just postponed.

So I left work and walked through Soho, walking in the roads and never the pavements, and wound up in Covent Garden, where I decided to get my hair cut. And here it was amazing. My hairdresser spoke minimal english - he asked my name, I asked his name, he started cutting - and looked like everyone I knew at Full Tilt (back when I thought it was fun to go to goth electro nights and get off my face to the point I thought a man turned into a tortoise), the whole thing took 20 minutes - BUT MY GOD!!! MY HAIR!! The man is a genius! He's cut it so my cows lick actually works, made the ends not like straw, and shaved the back... and danced while he did it. I gave him a 50% tip and vowed to myself to get my hair cut every month...
... But then he smiled at me, and he had pierced teeth.

How do you pierce teeth??

So now I don't mind that my life is a shambles, that I sleep in a sleeping bag and have a crush on a one-legged pirate from a book. I'm at home, nothing ever happens but relentless low level drama and nuisance. But it's okay, I am drinking a beer and listening to Nick Cave.