"Laser"ing, round 2. The laser of peace.

Since we last saw our panicked, nail-biting, sunburnt armpitted hero, I've had a change of heart. I can feel the reason why women like to go to salons. It's an aura of therapeutic, calming, chemically-induced progress. Everything about my life will be better, just so long as I lie on this table and have my unwanted hair exploded like tiny grenades of my newly constructed future. Do these kind people offer cucumber wraps for your eyes? Coca-cola baths to remove the stained outer parts of your toenails? Is there enough acid nostril rub to make me forget about all of this homework I need to do? I don't know. But I do know that I'll be looking forward to it all... That is, until I'm closer to the actual time where the actual acidey bits need to get next to my actual skin bits. But in theory, this is all starting to sound a bit nice.

It looks like we'll soon be getting an Urban Oasis in central square, where Hollywood Video used to be. Just think: You'll be able to have a relaxing bath in the back room where they used to keep the gentlemen's videos. I don't know about you, but that thought makes me look for my rubber ducky.

Tomorrow couldn't come sooner.