I'm staring at my ring shaped blister that is decorating my right thumb. Last night in a fit a of extreme genius I touched my thumb to the cherry-red car cigarette lighter. Why? It seemed like a good idea at the time. (Just like it once seemed reasonable to try to excise a mole on my chest with a Chinese kitchen cleaver.)
The smell of burning flesh was nauseating and the pain was intense. Score one for idiocy!
I'm also wondering why Blogger can tell you when you screwed up your HTML but can't do a simple spell-check? I've become overly dependent on Microsoft Words F7 and have regressed to the spelling prowess of a circus chimp.
This kid in my hall came up to me and gave me his review of "The Last Samurai". He prefaced it by saying, "I wouldn't tell anybody I saw this movie but..." At first I was flattered that I was privy to such clandestine information. But then I started wondering about whether or not his telling me about a rated-R movie he saw was indicative of anything. Why me? Do I give the image that I'm someone who is OK with that sort of thing?
It's snowing
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