Thursday, June 24, 2004

I haven't spent the last two days moping about, hating life. I got over all of the parental strife after I let off some steam here. I guess that is one good thing about having a blog. I also chatted with my friend, Nathan, and dropped a few choice words on him about the situation. For that, I thank him for listening. I was an angry, angry bitch the other night.

Anyway, today I was sitting in class and looking at my hands. A long time ago, I noticed that I had no hair on my fingers at all except for two tiny hairs on the middle section of the ring finger on my right hand. I thought that was kind of weird, but I let it go. Today, when I was looking at them again, I noticed that they were rather mutant hairs! Ugh! So I think I'm going to pluck them later on if I remember; I should at least trim them.

Thinking of this reminded me of a family I met while living in Yuma, Arizona. The husband had a mutant hair of his own. It was on his forearm, and it was sensitive to the seasons, which is weird because there are no seasons in Yuma. It's either hot or hotter. But in the "Winter", this guy has one crazy hair on his arm. (He has many hairs on his arm, but one in particular that goes whacko in the "Winter".) In the middle of his forearm, there was one hair that was 3 INCHES LONG! You know what? Cut that. 'Cause that's just gross! You know? No one wants to be freaked out by that hair, especially while we're eating dinner with you. It's weird when I went to their house to eat and was appeased when I saw the hair on his arm just because then I knew it wouldn't possibly have ended up in my food.

This afternoon, this little girl (9 years old) came into the office to have some work done. She has the longest fingernails I've ever seen on a girl of her age. And then I noticed that she had LONG, BLACK hairs growing on her legs, and I knew that she would grow up to be a moustache lady.


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