strangepants

so i was getting my hair cut, the other day and this one stylist, not the one cutting my hair, but just one hanging around, waiting to cut somebody's hair.

she walks by me and says, "you're naked!"

then i check myself because i am who i am.

then she says, "well not really, but you look that way without all of your hair"

then i said, "yeah, the last time i checked i had my pants on"

then she laughed.

then i started to do the atypical nerd wonder about if what she said was a freudian slip of sorts; like she wanted to see me naked and be on top of her and do all of those things you see in paris hitlon sex tapes; then i asked myself if i had closed my sun roof, then i started to play a mobb deep song in my mind, and well, i was totally spaced out.

until, well, i'll just save the story for in person, cause who the fuck reads this drivel?

i have a headache and my option for something to do on saturday night is to go some rave with jenna jameson and ron jeremy! wow, women who wear too much make up and hairy men with ginamours weiners.

i've become bitter and spirteful in the last couple of hours. fucking detroit rock city & their tenacious d.

at least i'm getting a new car on saturday and if things get finished early enough, i'll be hanging outside of irvine meadows, since its just down the street in a humble attempt to easedrop on the killers, yeah yeah yeahs, and beastie boys' set at the kroq show.