Right now, I wish for nothing more than for this fucking headache to go away. It feels like one of those carpenter's clamps is being squeezed down into my temples, only to ease up every few minutes, and it's been doing this, off and on, since 8 pm last night or so...

After work, my head wasn't bugging me quite as much as it is now, so I drove to my friend Stephanie's house for a bit. Chilled with her for a few hours. She recently got a hold of a copy of this book and it is so, so unbelievably fucking outstanding.

Good shit.

We talked for a while, watching old people go out and act crazy on some show where people get set up on blind dates... Some elderly guy was doing pull ups on TV, dressing in drag for the comic relief of his equally elderly date. Fatal helicopter accident on the set of the old movie "The Twilight Zone" on late-night Entertainment Tonight. Comics about a futuristic version of Russia. Cigarettes. Grosse Pointe Blank. Tattoo/piercing chat. Talking about people at work. Clive Barker books. "The Books of Blood". Gay celebrities. Anne and Christopher Rice. Making mix CDs.

Yep.

On the drive home, the headache started up again with a motherfucking vengeance. If it keeps up like this, I'm calling in to work tomorrow. This is one of those migraines I get every now and then and it sucks so, so badly.

Coffee customers dig my stars. Go figure. They've been digging the blue hair as well. I figured I'd catch shit for it, which I did, sort of, but the compliments have been overwhelming. I'm not used to strangers walking up and giving me unsolicited compliments like this. It's flattering but weird. I don't know how to take compliments very well. It's nice to know that someone might be in a nice enough mood to walk up and say, "I really like your hair..." or "Oooh, I like your stars...", but I'm just like, "Thanks...", and I leave it at that. It's not that I'm an asshole or anything, I just genuinely don't know what to say in response in those kinds of situations... I'm what you might call a "social retard".

In a good way, of course.

This guy at work, David, took one of my pics I made on the computer and set it as a background/screen saver/wallpaper/whatever for his PSP today. He showed it to me, as I was busy as fuck making coffee drinks for people. It was kinda cool and strange at the same time. At first, I thought, "That looks kinda familiar", and then it hit me what I was looking at. It was my gigantic (computer-wise) pic, only shrunken down to fit a tiny PSP screen.

This is what I'm talking about...

I think I'm going to go take a shower now, taking care not to fuck up the scabby tats on my forearms... I don't know if anyone noticed the pic of the guy in the wheelchair I posted ("Starchild's Mercedes"), but I saw that guy again today. I guess he hangs out in the shopping center near the "front" of my neighborhood reasonably often. Someday, I'm going to have to walk up to that guy and buy him a cheeseburger or something, in an attempt to get some interesting conversation out of him... He strikes me as an interesting character.

And to think... I haven't even had any alcohol to drink this evening/morning. Yet. Right now it is pretty cold outside. I'm sporting actual "layers" right now. Two shirts. Two pairs of socks. It's not really that cold, I'm just being a little bitch about it, but I can tell that it IS definitely cold, simply from my oh-so-scientific test I do every now and then, for the simple fact that I can...

You light a cigarette. Inhale. Exhale. If you run out of breath because you can't tell when the cigarette smoke ends, and your visible breath begins, then it's cold.

Simple.

So... About that shower. See ya.