An Inch And A Half

Monday, Aug. 02, 2010 - 12:51 a.m.

I played Cafe World over on Facebook for a grand total of one day, after which I quit.

I figured I probably wasn't the best chef in the world after my customers died of food poisoning and my building burned down from a grease fire.

Oh, well!

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On Saturday, I got to go and work with Alan on one of his original songs; we had a good time and he's happy with the work I did, but I finally figured something out for myself.

I love the bass, and I'll play it for Alan any time he needs a bass player -- but my first love is vocals.

So I told Alan to see if he could find a bass player for us.

I'd rather just sing. And I am not proficient enough to do that and play the bass at the same time.

No harm, no foul; it was a mutual decision and we're both happy as clams about it.

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I was chatting with Old Buddy Dave last night about collective nouns, and some of the more unusual ones that exist for animals and such.

I told him about a shrewdness of apes, a parliament of owls, a smack of jellyfish, a murder of crows, a kindle of kittens...

And bless his heart, he chimed in with a bucket of chicken.

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I finally got fed up with my hair. It was a short cut growing out and it looked terrible on Saturday after it was all sweated out during music work.

So I made a decision on Sunday. And I asked John for his help.

Late Sunday afternoon, I took some photos of myself with my grown out mane, down in my face and sticking out from all directions. Then I showered, dried my hair, and had John use the clippers on it.

My hair is now one and one half inch long all over, and it's magnificent.

My husband cut my hair for me!

THANK YOU, honey! Oh my, I love it so much!

I will post pictures tomorrow, after my rechargeable batteries are ready. In the meantime, to Omaha Dave, who keeps haranguing me about growing my hair out? I love you, but you are henceforth admonished to not bring up the subject of my hair length again to me ever again, in the history of ever, unless I ask what you think. If you still want to have lunch with me once in awhile, I guess you have to wait a year until my hair is long enough to suit you or something. Oh, wait, I won't be letting it grow out again after this!

Tell you what, Omaha, buy me a wig or a hat. Then lunch will be painless for you.

Thanks in advance for laying off. I finally have control over my hair, rather than its appearance being relinquished to a shitty stylist, or styled to suit the wishes of an old boyfriend -- and I rather like how that feels.

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That's it. Have a good Monday.

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