ham fisted theatrics

I had a productive ol' day.

I got up at the world-beating hour of one PM (new winter break record for earliness), went to the library to check my e-mail, sat in the park and got on the phone with the Bursar's Office and put out a fire (or at least got it reduced from a four-thousand-dollar fire to a less-than-a-grand one), back to the library for readin' material ("Portnoy's Complaint" which has been recommended to me by all my favorite Jews, and "Bootleg," about the history of bootleg recording culture), went to Supercuts and got a haircut (whenever I get a haircut, which is like twice a year, for a week afterwards I always end up looking like Prince Valiant and Mary Tyler Moore had a child, until the shit grows in, but it doesn't seem to be too too bad this time) (if I were an indie girl with a livejournal or a myspace blog I would give you all like nine or ten picture I took of myself with my new haircut so you could all leave comments like "Cute!" or "Too cute!" but just because my camera doesn't work and I'm not an indie girl doesn't mean you shouldn't leave a bunch of comments like that, because I AM A FOX), went to Donald's to record a verse for a song on his new album, went to the gym, dropped shit off at home and squealed with glee after finding Netflix delivered (I wasn't expecting any mail until Monday 'cause of Winter Break), went to the bank and Chipotle, back to the library, started a short story, wrote this.

Now to the theater for coogemootch.

Tommorrow: Philly for Steve/Matt/Daniel's show.