Well, the AZ sun has already bleached out my (way too mild for my taste) red and purple streaks. I think I shall go to Hairitics for a propper "do" when I travel to Chicago this October! 

Oops! I forgot to form a Dead Milkmen cover band, write articles about counter culture, and open a coffee shop/art studio. Here is what I am doing about it.

I entered The Punken Drunken Bowling Fest with some high school palls. I am a shitey, but happy bowler. Free Jameson's was passed around, which may explain the following event.
Our lane was situated between a group of skinny intellectual type musicians and a set of "gone to the beer belly" heroes of high school pasts. Further down to our left was a group of Punker girls to include a chick with staples in her head, wearing a safety helmet and a full leg splint. Every one was having great time when one of the very tall (6-5 or so) beer bellied man ran up to one of the more compact (read smaller than me) guys, belly first, of course. It was as though BeerBelly was a shepherd attempting to heard Compact Boy, his naughty sheep, with aforementioned belly away from... I don't know, maybe the Jameson's? I had not seen these two talk or even look at each other, so I was mildly confused. Beer belly gesticulated and seemed concerned that Compact may have had a problem. Compact suddenly did have problem and just as Beerbelly was backing off gave him a big what for in the face. That is, he punched Beer Belly in the face. At the same time, Handi Girl, whom I later learned was highly medicated and just released from the hospital, made a running jump, circling her arm around BeerBelly and bringing him to the ground, where she proceeded to beat the ever loving shite out of him.
Nobody puts Baby in a corner.