Petals on a wet, black bough...

I'm still trying to get my head around people who use those handless phone adapter things. So when they're walking down the street, they have these headphones in and a lot of times I can't see the headphones, so it looks like they're just talking to themselves. As if people in New York City didn't have enough weirdnesses, now they may or may not be talking to themselves. If there's a procedure to correct vision, I swear, soon there's going to be a procedure that attaches a chip in our inner ears so cell phones can be closer to us than ever.

Also, if I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times, if you can't drink til you're 21, and you can't drive til you're 16, you shouldn't be allowed out in public until you're 14. Little kids are insufferable.

I really want to wear sneakers tonight, but I have a feeling my friends are going to rape me if I don't dress up. They've come to accept the omnipresence of the hat, but I think I should compromise and wear boots tonight. Sigh.