S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y! Night!

Courtesy of my friend Chris and his new toy, this is how every woman got to see me at Ashley's on Saturday night.


Why, yes - that was me in the Metro Times. How's about givin' a lil' sugar? *smooch*

Miss, would you like to leave this place and take a ride in my looove mah-cheene?

Can my nostrils get even bigger? The answer is yes. Years of nose-picking can do that for you. Yeesh. I apparently also need to get some more sleep. (Sis, add eye cream to the Christmas list.) Watch out for those camera phones at the bar, kids. Also, stay in school and don't take drugs.

I got a couple of questions about the beard-in-progress from the fellas on Saturday. (I should also take this opportunity to apologize to anyone's cheeks I may have scratched. I thought it was softer.) And yesterday, it occurred to me exactly what look I'm going for: Al Pacino in Serpico, circa 1973.

I think that could be a good look for me. I just have to find those sunglasses. And a bead necklace. (Think I can find one in Ann Arbor?)

Actually, the more I look at Chris's photo, something else comes to mind. Compare that image to the cover of P.J. Harvey's first album, Dry.

No, you're right - Polly's lips are prettier than mine. And I imagine she doesn't have hair on her face.

To the fellas, it was good to see you on Saturday. I hope we get to do it again soon. And to our waitress, I apologize for staring at your boobs. (Am I taking the bullet for someone else at the table? Omerta, baby. Omerta.)

Scott, I'll call you about Brokeback Mountain. Just give me a day to look for my cowboy hat in the basement. Don't forget your chaps.