morose and shaggy

It is Saturday. I am getting my hair cut this morning.

I still can't shake the "po'-little-mes". I'm the worst sort of depressed person. I loathe being alone. I'm not big on it even when I'm in the most delightful of moods, but when I'm down I'm rather pathetic. My ideal way to navigate a bout of depression would be to crawl into bed with someone at my side to play with my hair and compliment me relentlessly until I feel better. There must be a service or something. There's that calm homeless dude who sits outside the Starbucks on Denman. I'm sure he wouldn't mind a bed to sleep in for a few days. Fuck, that's right. I don't have a bed.

I'm going to go flip through old issues of Cosmo to find just the right hairstyle. Cosmo girls are fun, right? They know the neatest sex moves and wear fantastically high-heeled shoes all day. They eat no food and always have the tidiest bikini areas. They are happy girls. Yes, I need Cosmos best cut for fall. I will post photos. No fooling.