walk my little doggy

I'm feeling better now. The terror seems to come in waves. Enormous, overpowering waves. And there's some kind of undertow, too, Christ. But I'm pretty happy today, in spite of the following botherations:

• I did something to my hair today that makes me look like an angora rabbit.
  
• I have Soft Cell's "Sex Dwarf" in my head. I hope to god there's no reason for that.
• I have to take a math test tomorrow. The kind with numbers.
  
• I had to do group work in class yesterday. Group work about Raymond Carver. Then I got called on and had to talk about Raymond Carver. I dislike Raymond Carver. I mean, just look at this picture. He's all, "I am an intense and sexy and dangerous man. At any moment I could leap across this table and punch you in the jaw. There is no telling what I might do, because I am ever so smolderingly volatile."
  
"Also, I have a pencil neck and am trying to hide it from you."

Want to know why I'm still in a good mood today, despite the hair and the math and the sex dwarves and the stories about fishing and whacking off?

• Somebody told me today that I looked skinny and tall.

Yes, I'm a little pathetic.