Thursday, March 15

Pigtails will kill you.

Especially if you're cruising in the middle lane of busy, busy Poplar, and you decide to signal politely to get over in the left lane so you cruise past the slowpokes, and as you're merging over, you feel something brush your neck — OMIGOD IT'S A HUGE MUTANT SPIDER-SNAKE CRAWLING UP MY NECK AND TOWARD MY EAR!!! — and you look down to see what it is and you realize it's your hair, you moron, and you look up and your dirty, already dented fender is about to become intimately acquainted with the ass-end of a very nice, very clean black SUV, and you apply the brakes pretty hard and swerve back into the center lane and shrink down in your seat as you hear your tires squeal on the wet pavement and the profane cursing of a dozen people around you as they wonder what the eff you've been smoking this fine Thursday afternoon.

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