spaazlicious

I'm reading Under the Banner of Heaven by Jon Krakauer right now, and that's a phrase that's tossed around a lot--the "[my/God's] house in order" bit, I mean, and has to do with the coming of a Mormon messiah, so of course, "over the years, more than twenty fundamentalists[...]have claimed to be the 'one mighty and strong' sent by God to[...]'set in order' the modern LDS church."

Anyway, yesterday, I had a pretty productive day. Went to the bank, returned some library books, tried to check out another book but it wasn't there (have all the copies of Charlie Wilson's War been absconded with?) but settled for Jarhead instead (so far, I'm enjoying the macho-artsy-farstiness of it) finally got my hair cut, did a little trauma recovery shopping at Babette Schwartz next door, and joined a gym, an experience almost exactly like buying a new cellphone. Ends up costing twice as much as you expected, you spend almost an hour fighting off the upselling, and when you walk out, you're still not sure you made the right choices or got what you wanted.

My favourite barber (Jeremy) wasn't in at Winn's in Hillcrest, so I walked next door to the slightly more expensive, much moodier (therefore way hipper and pretty much guaranteed your sideburns will be uneven) Ralph's and got my hair all club-kidded out (my usual cut, with a pantload of sticky stuff in it) with the gayboy flip in front. I think it's a requirement at Ralph's that short hair has to stick straight up at front when the client leaves, like a hairy phallic signature. I tried to take a picture of it (don't get me wrong with all this, I like it, but it's like my hair was on silly pills) but never until yesterday did I realise how intensely ugly I am in posed pictures. I thought that even our moron president and a chimp could model it better.



Wallowing in silliness, I went next door to Babette's, the retail zone for silly kitsch, and bought a box of Nag Champa incense (I'm sorry, I just love the way it smells like the Hari Krishnas in Pacific Beach) a fridge magnet, and this fine wake-up java juice delivery system:



If I was cool, I'd have an animated gif there so you could see the eyes vibrate, since they're set on springs in the sockets.

As far as fibre stuff goes, I've been spinning the merino/possum fur that Mom brought back from New Zealand for me. Incredibly soft, but lots of linty lumps make it impossible to spin a consistently fine single for plying. It's so soft though, I can't stay annoyed for long. There's enough for a very snuggly sweater for Nick in there.

I've pretty much decided on making a hoochie-top out of the Firestar, and calling it the "Ho Halter." Maybe I'll cast on tonight after our Greyhound Adoption Center training shift so I'll have some real knitting content to post soon.
a wee further booknote
If anybody out there is looking for a really fun read, I highly recommend Hiaasen's newest:
Skinny Dip, his best since Sick Puppy.

and one last thing...

Happy Birthday Libélula!