Ahem. Once again, I got into that weird anxiety where I can’t add an entry unless I completely rehaul the design.

To make up for said anxiety (laziness), here’s 1) a disgusting story and 2) a late-night metaphor:

1) ’bout a week ago, whilst washing the styling crap out of my hair before bed, I pulled out a little black lump. I was more than a bit perplexed, seeing as to how I’m not accustomed to, well, excavating crap out of my hair. I didn’t have my glasses on at that moment, so I brought it up real close to my eyes to examine, and…

…it had legs. And they moved.

A goddamn beetle, was in my hair.

“Now class, has anyone here ever made a noise with their throat as if they were choking on needles, while jerking their hand back so hard that it hit the bathroom wall, dropping whatever object/living organism they were holding, and then jumped into the shower, turned the water to skin-bubbling hot and rubbed shampoo in their hair for a full ten minutes? — Yes Charlie, put your hand up.”

2) Girls’ taste in guys can be a lot like their taste in food. There’s:
???+The girls who eat bland, tasteless food, out of some vague knowledge that it’s good for them.
???+Those who eat mainly based on convenience, ignoring such details as taste, nutritional value, and expiration date (this one translates directly).
???+The ones who can never decide where to go to eat (don’t tell me it doesn’t matter, I’m asking your opinion FOR A REASON) and they invariably end up hungry and bitchy.
???+Girls that can eat just about anything with ranch dressing (this translates as: she always has your love, support, and ATM card).
???+And the girls who pretty much eat cereal all the time.

Personally, I think I prefer the last ones. I see myself as something of a… Cinnamon Toast Crunch.