FLEEK!

That is substitution I heard a young thug girl say instead of "fuck" at a beauty supply store once. "WHAT THE FLEEK??!" I actually prefer it to the real word now. Thank you young thug girl, thank you for more fodder to fill my ever dwindling vocabulary.

I'm "FLEEKING!" because I have to wait almost a month to get my hair done by my favorite hairdresser. I mean, I really like her and she does a great job, but is it really worth waiting nearly a month for?? My hair is triflin' for reals. It needs some emergency help. By the time March 2nd rolls around I can only imagine the state it's going to be in. I do not trust myself with scissors (at least coming near any of my hair). I don't have a good eye for symmetry or precision. If you say "Hey Carla, is this picture on the wall crooked?" I'd be all "Uhh...looks okay to me..." (and it could be totally crooked but I wouldn't be able to tell).

Sometimes I feel like Dudley Heinsbergen from Royal Tenenbaums.....only not quite to that extreme.

I think when I move to SF I am going to start biking. First I must get over my fear of being struck by a car and flying through the air to my death. A helmet would probably help but then I wouldt first need to get over my aversion towards helmet hair. We'll see jhow it goes once I get there.

Are you guys ready for my last horrible food joke as illustrated with paint?



I'm going to make a 'zine of these people.