I've made a couple of attempts today at describing the experience I had last night. Not strictly an alien encounter, but that may be the best term for it.

I went to a meeting of a cosmetics-sales group whose name rhymes with Larry May. You're probably familiar with it; they're the organization that awards you some form of pink car once you've sold a certain amount of eyeshadow.

I can't get into it right now, owing to the desperation with which I'm trying to wrap up work and ditch, but suffice it to say that when I got home last night, I resembled a very cheap sideshow hypnotist. (The "very cheap" part was all mine--my "consultant" supplied the "sideshow" and "hypnotist" elements.) I was so amused/horrified that I photographed myself when I got home. Today, I looked at the photos, and realized that I can't actually post any of them, due to the exceeding horror of the image combined with the smirk on my face. It is truly ugly.

In other news, I have written two great new songs for the band, both inspired by my love for John Cusack. Everyone in the band is going to be so thrilled! Or, what's that word... oh, yes: disturbed. They are going to be so disturbed and angry. I can't wait to play them at rehearsal.

Here's my little Thanksgiving wish to those of you celebrating, in case I am too busy (i.e., trashed) and forget to write tomorrow. Um, HAPPY THANKSGIVING! Yeah. You know... OK, then.

Star of the day. . .Paul Westerberg