friday night at the buffet

i dyed my hair purple last night. well, parts of it anyhow. having completed my class, i am returning to portland tonight. and once again i am overcome by the unbearable anxiety of traveling in general and traveling by air specifically. but i have my pills.
the hair dyeing took place in the middle of a good drinking episode, with the expected result that the girl who let us dye our hair at her house wondering why the hell she let two drunk people into her bathroom with purple hair dye. then we went back out to face the whiskey again, this time at a dive bar called "the buffet." i liked it at first sight. it reminded me of good times. the other girl who dyed her hair and i both still hadn't washed the dye out of our hair and so just had purple-gooey locks wrapped on the tops of our heads. we decided to play a game with the locals (though close to the U of A, this was clearly not a campus bar--tucson crusties only). there was this guy there who looked exactly like fucking russel crowe, so we decided to fuck around with him a little bit. we told him we were here for a massage therapy class. to massage the knots out of trees. no, really, we're dendrochronologists. by the time we told him the truth, he was so confused he didn't know what to believe. not that he had any idea what dendrochronology is. of course, we gave him a series of false names as well. then these other guys came out of the woodwork right at closing and were trying to put the moves on hard and fast and so we made like trees and got the hell out.

i feel like i've written "dye" an inordinate number of times.