so, bald guy walks into a bar.

I went to some festivals on the fringe shows tonight because hey, it's a Monday. I'm still recovering from the last work week. Anyway, I've realized that comedy and stress are positively correlated. The more stressed I am, the more I want to see comedy and thus the more comedy shows I see. I went Friday, and then again today. After the improv show that one of my coworkers-who-doesn't-know-who-I-am-but-I-know-who-he-is was in, I stayed for the solo performance. Basically, it was this intense, sweaty late 30-something bald guy espousing the painful deterioration of his last serious relationship and newfound "finding of himself" on a trip to Mexico. He was speaking Spanish, singing with a guitar, and reciting Pablo Neruda. All the while, I kept imagining him in really strange, compromising sexual situations. And he was wearing a paper bag over his head in most of them. (I think he had a really nice body, it was just his face that was sweaty and scary. I'm so serious. *shudders*) It was very disturbing. And it reminds me of the ex-effect. Thank god I haven't fallen prey to that sort of sickness tonight...

Moral of the story is: relationships f*ck up your head. I'm really glad J doesn't write poetry or publicly perform solo shows about our break-up. God.

i believe i've misplaced some internal organs...

Is it just me, or does "eat your heart out" just sound really dirty?