I watched the movie of Tosca, the Puccini opera, over the weekend. I'm a comic-reading, rock- and punk-listening, poetry-reading, opera buff. No I'm not. I've actually never seen an opera, and I doubt I've ever heard one in its entirety before now. So here I am the ripe old age of 37, watching an opera on DVD. It was pretty good, actually. Maybe this will be a new trend for me. But for now, I'll cue up Rancid's Indestructible.
I eat a healthy lunch, man. I drink nothing but water. I have a yogurt every day. I eat a little meat or beans or cheese. I eat a wide variety of fruit colors: kiwi, blackberry, grapes, raspberry, mango, orange. I eat colorful vegetables: snap peas, fresh cucumber, baby carrots, grape tomatoes, yellow tomatoes, bell peppers. I ought to eat some cauliflower and broccoli, too, but they just don't taste good at all.
Of course, I have also been known to eat a lot of ice cream and chocolate. But hey, you have to live a little.
I stopped buying razor heads for my Mach3. They're very expensive and they clutter up the environment with all that plastic. I bought an old-fashioned safety razor (the kind that you fit genuine stainless steel razor blades into by hand) and a real badger-hair brush. This is less wasteful and much, much cheaper. It is also the way Real Manly Men shave, the way our tough as nails great-grandfathers shaved. They didn't have air conditioning and they didn't watch TV and they shaved with real razors, because they were Real Men. So I'm doing that too.
I'm fairly certain, however, that these Real Men did not slice the living fuck out of their necks and faces the way I do. My skin looks like the damn Somme in 1916, all torn up and running with blood. I am inept at things that require a sure and manly hand.
It is a closer shave, though. And where I haven't cut myself to bits, my skin isn't nearly as red and bumpy as it was with the old disposable cartridges.
Why am I not blogging about work? It's just not saying anything to me lately. I turned in my contract for next year today.