Really though. Knitting scarves and drinking cocoa is so much more fun than hailing cabs in a blizzard. Or wading through knee-high snowbanks to get to a bus. Or having slush-soaked jeans. Hopefully I can find a balance between the great outdoors and my futon.
I've had a last-minute booking for a show at Zaphod's next Friday. I'll be playing with the lovely and talented Casey Comeau. If I can get it together, I'd like to play some of my favourite covers - but let's just see if I can squeeze in a load of laundry before I go shooting for the stars.
I finally had my hair cut and bleached last night, and I am thrilled with it. I think I will just pay to have someone else do my colouring from now on. I mean, aside from the convenience, the salon fed me wine all night. Big, generous glasses. When I balance the cost of wine and the fact that I won't have to mix my own bleach, it's well worth the money.
Although, speaking as someone who has been lucky enough to avoid the malls so far this season, getting blasted with awful Christmas commercial radio while my hair dries is an experience I wouldn't wish on anyone. Do radio programmers not realize how BAD this shit is? It should be criminal to play that stuff on the radio. They aren't even trying. They just pick a tired Christmas song and a tired pop star, and put that vomit on the air. I've been getting a lot of mileage out of my Sufjan Stevens Christmas box set, because it sounds like real music and it doesn't make me break out in hives.
Here is a very awkward picture of me trying to show you my hair. It actually does curl that way... There's no salon magic there.