Study break.
Chapter two is well on it's way to its final demise.
CHOM boy just called.
"So, uh, when's our next session?"
Hey, how're you, I'm fine, thanks. In which plane exactly does "when's our next session" qualify as witty?
I'm ashamed of my response. "After exams" said I, meaning "I don't think so, fucker". I'm usually so good about this staying brutal thing.
Then again, I'm not sure he was looking for honesty. ;)
In any case, the get-the-webkid-a-new-look haircut outing went well, he's looking better already. He offered to take me out to dinner, but, uh, I had to rush home to study. Either way I think he enjoyed himself, and I *definitely* enjoyed the orange-and-jasmine neck massage I got (anyone wanna be the next victim for the massage tips I picked up?) tho I might not be too crazy about the haircut. Kinda way boring...
We'll see what we can do about it with a little gel, tho. ;)
And the hair-wash girl was *awesome*. She pushed my chair around and yelled "broom broom!" and we giggled until 'Mario' had to use harsh words with us in his delightful gay-french-canadian accent. (That's accent pronoucned da french way)
Pardon the mundanities this fine evening, but I'm drowning in greek symbols and algebraic representations of ford-knows-wot.
I'll be more interesting tommorrow, I swear.
So tell me you love me and I'll go back to smacking my feeble brain against the skull.
I'll love you again, tommorrow. :)