Trust Me. You Need Silver Shoes.

Ok, so I have to give myself a Wednesday curfew. This time, I was out until nearly 3 a.m. I know. I'm ridiculous. Who do I think I am? A hipster hanging out in Fair Park with no responsibilities like my blog makes money or something? I lecture myself so you don't have to.

The bartender at The Amsterdam Bar is named Sheldon.

"A Sheldon can do your income taxes, if you need a root canal, Sheldon's your man... but humpin' and pumpin' is not Sheldon's strong suit. It's the name. 'Do it to me Sheldon, you're an animal Sheldon, ride me big Sheldon.' Doesn't work."

He looks more like an "Ace."

Also, yesterday I decided to cut my own bangs. I know. Who do I think I am? Adam, the guy who cuts my hair and who always does an awesome job and who will cut my bangs for free in between haircuts? I don't even have good scissors. I have three-for-a-buck scissors from Ikea. At least I didn't cut them too short and give myself Xena, Warrior Princess bangs from 1996, which I had BTW and which I dyed one shade away from black. I know. I was an idiot.

It has become apparent to me after decades of dying my hair for fun and profit that it's a have-to situation rather than a want-to situation. I have recently noticed that I am going gray, for realsies. And yeah, I know I shouldn't bow down to the impossible ideal of Western Beauty and all that shit, but you try bucking the system when you live in Dallas. Dallas invented the system. I know. I should move. Moving's a hassle. I'll stick with Lady Clairol for now. (That's not an endorsement. I prefer L'Oreal products, but Lady Clairol is funnier.)

You know what's fun? Lavender and chammomile baby bath bubble baths. That is an endorsement, particularly when you stay out too late on a Wednesday. Damn Wednesday! Wednesday is heretofore banned. Bath products for babies are not banned. They are encouraged, because they're cheap and they smell good and they leave you all soft and delightful. I couldn't stop smelling my arms all day yesterday. I know. When I picture it, it's weird too.

Hey you know how I hate the freakin' coffee house station on XM? I figured out how to fix that. Headphones. I know! I'm a genius. But now I look like a Headphone Geek like all the other Headphone Geeks I used to silently mock. At least I'm the only one here today. I can hear Cell Phone Guy in between songs. At least I'm not that guy, so I've got that going for me, which is nice.

"When was the last time you were decently kissed? I mean, really, honestly good and kissed?"

"Dave Gammelgard. New Year's Eve. '61."