I’ve been a slacker with the posting. Apologies. Spent Friday unpacking, cleaning, re-reading Coraline, gearing down from flying back on Thursday (Nassau-Toronto was smooth like buttah, btw). Also had to work last night at the Snail.

And go out to the Bishop and get reacquainted with severe inebriation. Ohhh my head. The boys and I had the most extensive geeked-out conversation I’ve had in weeks. It ranged from how did Batman get all those oversized mementos of his archnemeses into the Batcave without anyone noticing (“Hey, Bruce! Nice day. Whatcha doin’ with that enormous penny and the huge robotic dinosaur?” “Ahh, yeah… I bought them on Ebay? Seller said they were genuine Batman memorabilia. I’m a big fan of his work.”) to discussions of how JW’s giant wooden badger is coming along for the Monty Python window display. I had a great time, although I’m paying the price now.

I realized yesterday that other than the occasional rum and coke, I’ve been doing some pretty clean living for the past two weeks. Lots of sleep, mild exercise, plenty of reading, and NO COFFEE for thirteen straight days. But yesterday, I had that first joyous Starbucks grande no water soy chai latte and… ZING! I’m a born again addict.

Salt and sun rinsed all the Manic Panic out of my hair, and since my head already feels like it’s on fire what with the blazing hangover, I decided to take the time to re-dye it pillarbox red. Even as I type, red pigment is soaking further into my mane. Also, I must admit, I felt way too “establishment” in my cream cable-knit sweater with my tame ginger hair at work last night. None of the customers looked keen to ask my advice about which Daniel Clowes they should take home or where ‘Hulk: Return of the Monster’ was shelved. Observe how readily I bend to peer pressure.

Time to call Chrissy and see if she’s up for coming out and eating an *extremely* greasy spoon kinda brunch with me. Grease is all that can save me now.