You Look Depressed, Is That Hot Dog Getting You Down?

It's me again. Don't look so excited, you. You could maybe be slightly happy to hear from me. Please? Oh. Fine. I suppose I'm not all that exciting. Despite this fact, I think I'll bore you with another post. Or rather, not bore you, hopefully. Though that is highly up to you whether you find this all amusing or not. Anyway, I will continue on the subject of haircuts. Which has nothing to do at all with the title of this post.

Because I am neither patient nor very bright, I decided late last night it was about time that I had a haircut. So, this morning I proceeded to straighten my otherwise curly hair and lop off quite a bit of it. In the front, because I am most certainly one to jump the gun. The result was actually rather pleasing, besides the fact that it wasn't exactly what it was supposed to look like. The misfortune of it all was that I did not realize my mum had in fact planned a professional hair appointment for me. Which is all good, actually, since I refuse to try and trim my hair for fear of it going beyond repair.

Next subject. The whole title of this particular piece actually does have a context, despite it seeming to be completely random. Well, it is completely random nonetheless, but that does not erase the fact that it still does have a context. This context was during dinner time (hence the whole hot dog part). Actually, to be more precise, after dinner.
I was staring at the hot dog on my plate, considering what it would be like to be a cow, when my middle brother, Jazzy, said, "Are you alright? You look depressed. Is that hot dog getting you down?" Which I laughed at, of course. I told him to get along and that I would be down to watch our movie when I had finished eating the unfortunate piece of meet. I told him it could be awhile. He laughed.

Alright, well, and a parting little quote for you all to take a stab at. "You said that you would die for me. You must live for me, too." Okay, and also, the hint: it's lyrics. Have fun!