It is bullshit to downplay somebody's possessions being destroyed, perhaps even moreso for toys. My mother delighted in giving my toys away, throwing them out, and putting them in the basement (thereby dooming them to moldy destruction).

Yeah, they're just toys. But looking specifically at the stuffed animals that one day she decided should all be in the basement, they all had names and personalities. I played with them. Maybe not at the time that they were moved to the basement but I still had fond memories of them. Now they're all gone. And for what? They were doing fine in my closet. Why did she suddenly get the idea that they had to go in the basement?

I haven't talked to her in a year and I don't regret it one bit. She was cruel and manipulative. Her destroying of my stuff made this easier. It hardened me. I disposed of her like she disposed of my toys.

She sent me a weepy, manipulative message a few months ago. "Can you forgive me for whatever I did? I miss you."

I told her that if she really thought I stopped talking to her for no reason, she would have advised me to see a psychiatrist. You were standing there watching me sleep-masturbate you sick fuck and then went to the bathroom for a lengthy period of time. Totally sick. Add the whole toy thing to this and the fact that she paid my student loans FOR YEARS in spite of the fact that I specifically told her not to do this thereby dooming me to many more years in exile (statute of limitiations restarts every time you make a payment) and I see absolutely no reason to ever talk to her again. When she dies, which I hope will be soon, I won't go to the funeral.

What else...oh, I didn't shave my head for a couple days longer than I usually wait and I noticed that I'm now completely bald. The receding goes completely to the back in the classic horseshoe pattern.

I was looking at my passport photos. In 2005, more or less a full head of hair, although it was probably thinning a bit in the back. So I thought, wow. In ten years, it got this bad? That's terrible.

But then I looked at my 2010 passport. Very significant hair loss by then. Almost nothing on top and probably bald in the back. So it was basically within that five years. I was right to shave it when I did. Should have done it sooner, actually.

Do I wish I had hair? Well, I guess there's some cool stuff you could do with it. But when I had hair I didn't do anything cool with it. And I probably wouldn't now. I hated getting haircuts as well.

As for the ladies, I really don't think it matters. If I had hair, I don't think that I'd get a higher quality or quantity of women.

So yeah, it's good. People freak about this thing but it's really not a big deal. I mean, I have a dent in my skull from when some kid threw a rock at me and stuff like this but nobody's studying your head. And nobody cares anyway.

Other news...oh, I got a couple of pizzas today from Pizza Napolina or whatever. It's a local Italian place. Slightly higher prices. The pizza is good but I question the prices. I got two 12 inch "large" pizzas for £15.

Out of interest, how big is a "large" at any of the chain pizzarias...neither Papa Johns nor Dominos wants to say. That authoriative resource: Yahoo Answers says 14 inches.

But anyway, I've never had a problem with Dominos or Papa Johns or any pizza place for that matter in terms of size. This Italian pizza is not filling because it's so thin, though. I ate one pizza in a single sitting. I never do that. You can eat a slice in three bites. Two if you make a slight effort. So it goes to show that it's not just circumference that matters, it's thickness as well. I'm not trying to make some lame penis joke here. I found this legitimately interesting.

Oh yeah, and I got my passports back. Now I have to make an appointment to do some pointless interview to confirm your identity. What a joke this is. Provides jobs, I guess. After that, my British passport should be on its way. Then I'll be free to go where ever I want.

I wanna shake off the dust of this one-horse town. I wanna explore the world. I wanna watch TV in a different time zone. I wanna visit strange, exotic malls. I'm sick of eating hoagies. I want a grinder, a sub, a foot-long hero. I want to LIVE, Marge. Won't you let me live? Won't you, please?