The next day, Carolyn and I saw Inland Empire. I have no idea, really. There were talking rabbits. What?
Whenever I go to McLeod happy hour, I eventually can think of nothing other that going across the street to get a hot dog from Shorty's. (Perhaps this is a consequence of not eating between work and drinking?) Sometimes I feel like a bad vegetarian for delighting in the occasional fake processed meat product and eating chili cheese dogs with a fork and knife sort of diminishes the fun, but still delicious.
This week, people were having haircuts in the McLeod room. By the end of the night (noted by the ceremonial playing of "hungry like the wolf" and "total eclipse of the heart"), a non-notable Seattle celebrity had McLeod shaved into his haircut.
THEN/LATER, taking a cab up the hill, motivated partially by a conversation about conjoined twins, our driver told us all about how his "friend" accidentally "made sex" with his own sister. War, refugee status, and Africa were involved in the mix-up. I am surprised no one fell out of the car.
OK. haiku time.