yeah. now this is happening.
and no,
it's not a small dead dog, either.
what it is is grown-uppery at it's most dramatic.
no longer will the savage stormswept gypsy winds blow
luxuriously through my nordic barbarian berserker locks.
instead,
a whole new era of gusty old busty disgusty is goin' down:
responsible homeownin' billpayin' adulthood.
and the coiffure to complement it.
bummer.
my very own personal stylist rocked it out for my head,
and we even saved a longer-than-11" braid,
to be used in an as yet undetermined project.
perhaps pin the tail on the donkey?
more like pluck the ass off an ass.....
word.
i hauled wood like a lumberjack today,
which is more tiring than jacking wood like a one-handed typist,
y'heard?
house stuffs takes time, and a lot of effort,
but my big reward will be crashin' out on my very own
cushion-pushin' sweet double-stuffed queen-sizer.
(that's what she said)
real beds for real boys.
my style is hard, ya'll.
never quiet, never soft....
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