Hallelujah

Praise the lord, etc. It’s Spring Break. Tonight, at the grocery store, I saw no fewer than six women who appeared to be within four years of my age (28). That is — for those keeping score at home — exactly six more than usual. Of course, I had the guts to speak with exactly none of them; all had guys hanging off them, except one, with whom I exchanged a smile, twice even. The irony is that today was where I decided, fcuk it, I’m not shaving and I’m not putting any product in my hair. I couldn’t have cared less about my appearance, and look what happens. What the heck’s up with that?