Mama said gross you out

I'm afraid this might be a chicken for dinner kind of post because really, not much has been going on.

I mean, since recently. Because I got my hair cut on Tuesday, and once it got terribly cold on Monday I was all oh my hell there is no way I'm getting my hair cut over my ears I need every drop of insulation possible. And my hairdresser agreed. So this spring, we chop.

Also, I do not know why I always take the cold so personally but I do.

Anyway, I hadn't seen her since October so when you're looking at catching up on that stretch of time, there was Austin and Thanksgiving and lice and a robbery and Christmas and New Year's. Which was a lot.

But since then it's pretty much only been dandruff, which my friend Jess suggested was really just head irritation, and she turned out to be right. Because it has dramatically improved since we stopped irritating his little scalp.

What I'm saying is, scalp irritation is all we've got, and we're running out of that.

And here I must confess that I found the removal of the dandruff/scalpy stuff flakes highly satisfying. I am one of those people who can't bear not to squeeze a pimple, pick a scab, etc. I've never lanced a boil but I bet I'd love it.

Yes, I know these are revolting. I don't know why I find them so compelling.

And me, I get grossed out touching raw meat. Which actually means it's rarely chicken for dinner.

Years ago I worked with this gorgeous Italian guy. He had a strong nose, which I happen to love, and when you got close enough you could see that he had all these blackheads.

Close enough like sitting work-appropriately far from each other and discussing a project. Not closer.

Anyway, every time I saw him my initial thought was always, "Oh my god can we please make out? But first could I squeeze all your blackheads?"

So now you know.