stood up for dinner, rescued by kung-fu

Biologists Helping Bookstores is a guerrilla effort to reshelve pseudo-scientific books, (like those on intelligent design), by taking them from the Science section and moving them to a more appropriate area of the store, (like Philosophy or Religion).

I have involved my mother in something strange. She’s to appear on television tomorrow in a lime green mini dress as the bass player in a psychedelic band playing Just Dropped In To See What Condition My Condition Was In. I’m almost certain this makes me an awesome daughter, but I’m not really sure yet. It depends too heavily on how my unexpected social experiments turns out. The scale runs all the way from Entirely Beneficial to Apologies Required.

As a related oddity, I’m apparently to show up to the Odd Fellow’s hall to help construct 500 hand puppets out of brown paper bags. I suspect, only to save my soul, I might skip out. I received an invitation today to a gig, horror of horrors, at The MeatMarket Roxy. As I’ve never been, it might pass as an acceptable excuse an adventure. I need to get out more, see different people. It’s really not you, it’s me. And the constant country music. Not-so-secretly, I’m hoping to be turned away at the door for not meeting dress code. Last I walked past, the requirements seemed to tottering high heels that lead the eye up to a bandage of a skirt and a tiny, glittering lollipop top cut halfway to the navel. (I’m not judging them as much as I’m judging myself. No one needs to see my ass is something like that. Especially me.)