A Weirdo With A Yo-Yo Walked By Me Today
My new haircut is like The Beatles, Sgt. Peppers Era. It is especially reminiscent of John Lennon and Ringo Starr’s hairdoo from the album cover — you know, semi-short, kind of fluffs up at the top. I tend to wear flamboyant, day-glow military gear also.
Now I just need a ped-stache; a pedophile mustache, for those of you not up on your highschool-to-college-but-really-immature-like-a-middle-schooler ironnic t-shirts and slogans.
My hair will become unruly in mere weeks. Nothing can contain it for long.
T-minus (t in the physics sense, standing for time) one hour or so until I head to Tallahasse.
My packing for the trip consists of throwing things that look like I might want them over the weekend toward the general direction of my bag.
A man threw me a t-shirt at Turlington. It was tye-dye. It was propaganda for an apartment complex. The tye-dye job is terrible. It looks like a clown was murdered wearing it and they recycled it.
I am looking for a place to live. But not an apartment, a house. My roommate gave me a good site/company that has places around Gainesville. He was coveting it, but I broke him. Now I have the knowledge and covet it myself.