I knew it was bad when I let my hair down and I caught I whiff of my shampoo. It smells warm and spicy...kind of like a guy. You know the guy smell of a guy who doesn't attempt to smell overly good...I mean no extras, just shampoo and soap. That's my kind of guy. I closed my eyes and sniffed with reckless abandon. I won't lie, a slow, easy smile crept across my face.

This is the excitement in the Cornfield...nothing. Just a lot of work and thoughts of play. If you think of anything for me to write about, let me know...ok? I'm dying over here. Literally. What's the fancy term for death of the soul? I think that's the next step.

Ah, overly dramatic...that's my style (that and a ton of elipses...)