It's normally difficult to suss out the color. My eyes are sunken in. My skull thus provides a natural Parisian awning while I conduct my viewing business. When thrown in a blender with my tres chic insomnia and 4 hour nights of sleep, 'evil' is usually the preferred color coding.

Curiously useless 'me' trivia: did you know I have two eye freckles in my left iris? I kid you not. I rarely remember them and people rarely comment.

Skull awning strikes again.

Curiously non-useless eye freckle fact: did you know eye freckles can be a sign of cancer? I didn't. If I hadn't had them since, you know, birth, I'd feel fidgety.

And while we're on the subject of my head and trivia, did you know I've had four different hair colors? Yes. When I was born I had white-blonde hair. That promptly fell out. I next grew in fiery-red hair of the McKennitt variety. That too fell out. I then grew the most boring shade of light brown possible. That stuck.

I got a haircut recently from a depressed barber bitch. I've never been more tempted to shave my head. Seriously. No, no. Seriously.

This moment of extended narcissism was brought to you through a grant from the Rand Corporation; and by typists like me.

In less fascinating news, there is a severe thunderstorm watch in effect. And I watched as a severe thunderstorm engulfed my umbrella and nipped up my now drying cords.

But I'm far less impressed by bad weather than 1.50 drink specials, so to the Inferno I go regardless. Dancing has become fun instead of like binge drinking. Last time, despite dancing for a total of an hour and a half out of the 5 I was there, I wasn't sore.

Shower time, black time, show time.

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