Monday, November 14, 2005

Sweet, buttery Christ!

And cowboy boots. I joked about it earlier, but now I see that there was far more truth in the statement. WTH?

First, I do a 180 and move to San Francisco.

Then, I chop off my hair.

Next, I turn my back on the call of corporate life.

Then, I really chop my hair off (but only in the back this time and, oh yes, start playing with the colors.)

If that weren't enough, I start yearning for a dog.

And now I want cowboy boots.

This is not a midlife crisis, this is a previously unrealized teenage rebellion of near disassociative proportions.

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