I got my hair cut yesterday and the scary lady who cut it and squished her boobs against the side of my head for a half hour straightened it when she was done. I now look a little like the cat pictured above. Apparently it makes me look much younger; so much so that when I went on a beer run this afternoon for tonight's party, they wouldn't sell me the beer. I'm 26, I don't carry ID. Instead I just stand there turning puce while my little sister laughs her arse off, produces hers and saves the day. The cashier still insisted on getting my age before he let me go and I don't think he believed me.
“It was like paying money to watch someone beat a dog.” - *Lost Memory of Skin by Russell Banks*