corduroy sculptures have attacked my cabeza...

What do you do when your brain feels like crumpled up corduroy? I'm not talking supple Banana Republ1c all cotton corduroy, I'm talking about that K-M@rt crap you wore in 5th grade (which would be 1976 for me) and crumpled up in the corner of your closet only to find it 10 years later posing as a strange sculpture encrusted with dust.

Dry. Crumpled. Permanently creased. Spent.

I am tired and stressed at the moment. Even people with no teeth and extra-long mullets can't make me laugh. That's a crisis, dammit.

I don't like my brains dry and dusty. I like my brains gooey and full of electricity. Must get rid of corduroy. I never liked the stuff much anyway (unless of course it's stretch baby wale, but that's an another entry...)

Send me some synaptic snuggles, people. La cabeza has no humidity...