I needed a haircut. I know when this happens when my sideburns start to coil into my earhole. Everytime I go, the lady asks me what I want done and I just shrug and talk to her in Hebrew. She then goes ahead and makes me look like a band member of McFly until I wash it all out later in the evening. My hair is stupid. I've said this before. It doesn't like me and quite frankly I don't like it (collectively).
Koulla didn't notice my new fangled hairdo so as a way of protest, I spent some quality time with Frosty. He'd/She'd shed a whole bunch of feathers but clearly didn't look like a teen guitarist. He/She still hasn't snapped out of the mood hes/shes in. He/She sunk his/her beak into that bit of cartilidge that seperates my nostrils. It really hurt. Jumping away from the cage, Frosty clung on, swinging from my nose. Death is too good for that Budgie.
I did my run again. This time I didn't pass out but I did vomit into the recycling bin outside my house. Annoyingly, I got it in the green one (paper and glass) when I suspect it would have been better suited in the purple one (cardboard and plastic). I hope the bin men take it away. Maybe it will solidify by the time they next come around and I can pass it off as the local telephone directory.
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