Instructions for an epic weekend: Step one: get haircut for dinner with a girl. Step two: feel bummed it doesn’t go through, but no hard feelings, because it’s a legit reason. Step three: finish some editing. Step four: learn mentor died this week. Step five: have a whiskey in his honour at my local. Step six: be impressed with the new singer, who is not in fact three middle-aged dudes who always sing the same songs and are alright, but not a blonde bombshell in a burgundy dress that would definitely blow Marylin Monroe style with that floor-fan on her if not for the sensible choice in dress design. Step seven: meet chick who likes air guitar and her friend, a dude who loves your favourite book, when you can’t get ANYONE to read the damn thing, despite it being one of the most successful books in the genre of recent times. Step eight: add a new mate to friend list. Step nine: go to party Saturday, do jello shots, meet people, play hilarious 48 hour challenge game, have good time. Step ten: go to writing group for final time this year, which has been pretty much prevented all but once, maybe twice, all year by the sheer fact that this is the year we’re praying a meteor hits us. Step eleven: laugh with the entire group about how much sexual innuendo is in this one piece. Step twelve: have a good lunch with a bunch of good people. Step thirteen: politely reject a special offer from an Asian hairdresser in the mall. Step fourteen: politely reject a “special offer” from said “hairdresser”. Note that later that night, at a regularly scheduled event, a nice girl you know but haven’t spoken to in forever says your hair looks good. Remember you got a haircut this week. Step fifteen: sleep. So much sleep.