morbo is pleased but sticky

My Saturday isn’t going to be anywhere near as exciting as it was last week, but I think I’m okay with that. For starters, there will be no America – I can be called many things, but crazy a sucker for punishment ridiculous silly enough to attempt crossing the border during the multi-day orgy of consumerism known as Black Friday is not one of them. Also, there will probably not be a repeat of last week’s Lemon Party, which was extremely contrary to what the internet had taught me (there were no old naked men having old naked gay sex anywhere in sight) and besides, Steve has thus far successfully rebuffed my candy corn bribery to throw weekly parties for my fickle amusement.

With no lemons to be group pruned, my Saturday is going to be spent catching up on all the things I should have been doing throughout the week – random laundry (I’m down to only four black dresses to choose from; the horror), taking a crowbar to some furniture, and seeing what happens when I apply a $2 box of Korean “natural orange” henna to my head. What’s the worst that could happen?

You probably shouldn’t answer that.

I sort of hope my hair comes out green. It would actually clash a little bit less with the outfit I’m planning on wearing to the One Fancy Party I’m attending this holiday season – Korean Natural Orange and purple don’t even go together in my head, but I’m bravely forging ahead anyway. I expect my medal will be arriving any day now.

Stuff is good. On an unrelated note, I need to start nicknaming my co-workers – I know I’m a “writer” in the most sardonic possible sense, but this isn’t the Game of Thrones: I can’t just drop random characters into my tale and expect people to care when I lop their heads off in an unexpected and heart-rendering side story. Also, sometimes incest. Everyone is filthy behind castle doors.

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