Yay, for my haircut, I thought as I looked bleary-eyed into the mirror this morning. Even if me & the hairdresser did have an inordinately detailed discussion about what I meant by short.
Just cut my fucken hair will ya?
My reflection looked fresher, happier, cooler, handsomer, gazing back.
I'm never going to smoke again. That's what I'm aiming for. That's what it has to be, if I want to quit. I can't piss around with this any more. Time to get serious.
I had dinner with Mark W, Shane and D. So you think you can dance results show dinner. We had a couple of joints.
To tell you the truth, I'm not even enjoying being stoned any more. It just feels stupid.
And cigarettes, I hate them.
This should be easy.
nervous smile.
6 hours later...
Oh yes, feisty Christian is lurking just below the surface, like hot mud pools, or thermal rocks. Beige to bitch in milli-seconds. Guns are armed but so far have not been fired. At surface level I look nice and normal, but under the surface, toil and trouble brews, ready to spew forth @ the slightest provocation.
Okay, so I took my mum to Safeway and ate lunch with her without incident. So, let's not push it, I think. I've got DVD's, I've got tea, I've got juice, I've got 3 newspapers and I am heading to bed to endure the rest of the first day out of sight.
Probably best.
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