No job at the hospital for me. I'm not even allowed to go on part time here because we're short-handed. Oh, the humanity...

Well, my bass has finally officially been named McCrea, after John McCrea, the lead singer and guitarist of Cake. It's tone seems to have that odd mixture of apathy and emotion so typical of his singing style. Plus, I admire him so much, it seemed fitting to name a musical instrument after him. Special thanks go out to everyone who sent me name ideas- you all rock the casbah and all things casbah-related. Now please don't hate me for not using your ideas. *duck*

Last weekend's valuable lesson was never get your hair cut by someone who doesn't speak fluent English, and then try to get it fixed by your dad's girlfriend. Mandy felt so bad for recking my hair that she insisted I take it out on her with a pair of scissors. Thankfully, only her hair-do was harmed. The end result- tears, laughter, a trip to the salon, and much shorter hair, but I have to admit that everything turned out for the best because we both look damn cute. This weekend- adventures in professional highlighting.

"How much did you pay for the chunk of his guitar- the one he ruthlessly smashed at the end of the show? And how much will he pay for a brand new guitar, one which he'll ruthlessly smash at the end of another show? And how long will the workers keep building him new ones? As long as their soda cans are red, white, and blue ones." -Cake

So how do you afford your rock n' roll lifestyle?

"Do a little dance!"

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