Sinister: this charming blood clot

[Pulpbot at xxx.com]

Here, my queers,

...get away from me, I'm dying my hair. Har. Feeling and looking like a post-
chemo Ari Up this weekend, I decided 'twas time to play Twister on my scalp
again, albeit with fewer arms but just as confusing. No suspense, then: I
hoped for nuclear reactor red, but the combo of not-yet-gone bleach and
impatience, made me look like a sexy bit of mud and the bathroom like a George
Seurat miscarriage. Salvation comes in the form of another dye, with a more
orange base. Pushing the baby cancer cells, none so sensitive as my record
collection, to grouchy adolescence, no doubt. see subject head as for what the
finished product ended up like. It ain't rockin' to be shockin' as the good
man Alfie Bambaata would say.
Oh, does anyone have a copy of Tigermilk? 
And: you listees can get a copy of most Felt albums for 10 cents in your finer
strip mall chain record stores in the New Hampshire/southern Virginia areas. I
abandoned such muted musical pursuits, myself, after espying Brett Anderson's
nipples, back when he was a mere bobbed-blonde steward serving randy gin and
tonic's on Virgin Air's express flights from Heathrow to Stoke-on-Newington.
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