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January 24, 2007
My hair is getting in the way of my getting to sleep, so I jump out of his bed just long enough to grab a hairband and secure a cheerleadery ponytail atop my sleepless head. I look like Pebbles Flintstone. Or a pineapple.

"It's not your best look," he says with a pre-kiss smile, "but I like that you're willing to be yourself in front of me."

Translation: "You look like an idiot, somewhat." (Therefore, I am one.)

I don't want to be slightly insulted, but I think I am. Not enough to lose sleep, literally or otherwise, though. Whateverrrrr!