BURIED IN HIS JAMMIES?!

He was born in Arizona, Moved to Babylona... KING TUT.

Okay-- why is it that Steve Martin isn't a god yet? Steven Spielburg is a god. Harrison Ford is a god. Heck-- the "its time to make the donuts" guy is practically IMMORTAL. Steve Martin-- where ever you are. Your brilliance is ritualistically celebrated with fruit punch (raspberry/apple juice, no citrus. Damn cats) and a solid community stoning.

I have found a new PRINCESSY style for my over-long locks. They're pre-wig now (for Locks of Love) and well out of control. It's Princess Bride meets Princess Leia meets Princess Crown. or Princess crown, since it's an object. I might get some enamle to keep it this way. Sleep on it. Eat on it. head spin on it. Like a freakin' rock.

Das is all for now.

ALL HAIL STEVE.

Tales from the Woman with a Thousand Heads

So... I found the witch. Turns out she's me. Or I'm she. Or Me's she. Whatever.

Lately I've been sporting the "dreamy-eyed Hermit" head. Too comfy to fight. The worst part is, people are starting to notice. ZOINKS.

So, I've not really participated in this thing for like, derrrr, ages. I've been meaning to start up ye new livejournal. Perhaps I will?

But in the mean time, I will keep my house of lies and piracy for exactly what I need-- a place to ramble truthfuly in round about sentences sounding more like lies than the trooooof.

Started writing again. Hopefully that will bring back my core. I miss my core. It's been replaced by a deep-seeded side-mouth. What's a side-mouth? It's that thing that helps you double talk, or talk around issues. I don't like that side mouth and I want it gone.

Found a spiritual healer recently. Actually, his biz card fell from the sky. CAn't get more meaningful than that. Hindu-helper, I shall give you a ring (-a ling ling. Thank you Mr. Wonka).

So, DON'T STOP THINKIN' ABOUY TOMORROW. And all that jazz.