I’ve been a bad roommate.

I eat too much chicken and leave the lights on.

People come over at odd hours and we use our outside voices.

Also, I accidentally used your towel because I thought it was mine.

I’m sorry. The situation will be rectified.

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I was at the hairdresser the other day. Her name’s Maxine. She always makes me feel uncomfortable. That’s what they do. They make you feel just insecure enough that you know you need to by their products, but not so insecure that you feel insulted.

So I was sitting there, and I realized that my hair really was terribly brittle, that I hadn’t taken care of it over the winter, that I’d let it dry out. As if reading my mind, Maxine pulled out this smooth, clear slightly viscous, serum, “Bio-silk” that would bond and strengthen my hair from the inside and out, filling in any voids in the cuticle layer.

She poured a dob of it into my hand. I rolled it around in my fingers. It was so, so silky. And then it hit me. It had the exact same texture as the K.Y. Natural feeling lubricant sitting in my nightstand drawer. It was just lube, repackaged and sold at twice the price.

So fuck Maxine. Fuck bio-silk.  Towel try and K.Y. Save yourself the twenty bucks.

Men, I love men. All I think about is men. Especially Arab men. This week I’m  not going to talk about men though. I’m only going to talk about ideas. Great minds talk about ideas. Average minds talk about things. Weak minds talk about men.

The greatest happiness is the happiness that comes from discovering real, philisophical truth. The material world is transient and false. Sensual pleasures are distractions from the pure forms, from the highest virtues, from ideas. 

Plato was a fuckface.

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