Ass from elbow decipherification

When I said I was just going to go to work for an hour, I lied. Instead, someone, lets call him Mr. Snuffles, was off sick and since I was there, guess who got picked to go and do his dirty work. It must be my innocent charm…or something. Standing for hours on end, in the cold and the dark in 3″ heels. I’ll leave you to determine my comfort levels. I will however, mention that I ended up taking my shoes off and standing bare foot on the sidewalk. I think I’d better go and get tested for cooties now.

If a certain group of friends *poke, nudge, shove* get on with things and manage to determine the correct location of both their ass and their elbow, I could have a little job writing for their magazine. As I said, it really depends on their ass from elbow decipherification (Shut up all of you. Its a word because I say it is). In the unlikely, or not so unlikely event that they do start it, I’m reasonably certain that I’ll have one manic fan (that’d be you, Ashley). She’d be the one with the brightly colored banner saying ” I

On an unrelated note, y’all makes me think of Brandon. Hah, everybody say “Howdy Brandon.”

Uh, okay, awesome…

…Bye?

Musical cheerios and breakfast gore.

I miss the use of my hand. I think my piano does too, its just sitting in the corner lonely as ever. I’m pretty sure I heard it weeping last night. By the time the doctors decide I’ve learned my lesson, oh no, wait, I mean, by the time the doctors decide my bones are fixed, I’m going to be a music deprived wreck cowering in the corner while I mumble the notes of anything I hear… the doctors shoes, for example. Either that or my piano will get upset and bite my fingers off. Either way, someone will not be happy. While we’re on the subject of music, I really want to go buy a violin and learn to play it again. Its been *counts on fingers* oh, say, 10 years since I last tried. Sigh, that makes me feel old.

Lets see, lets see, I’ve gone round everyone going “Oh my god, her guts were hanging out and everything” but if I haven’t, you know now. I have to admit; I was slightly amazed when the majority of replies I got were “Cool! Did you get any photos?” not “Oh my god, ew.” Then again, the majority of my friends who know what I do are guys. If they weren’t photos from work, I’d have them posted here, there and everywhere but confidentiality is everything. Totally lame but as they wish… Rotten.com will just have to wait.

Sams back from school for spring break and she’s already driving everyone insane. Jack seems to have her wrapped around his little finger. He took her rollerblading and showed her some tricks. Mom, if you’re reading this, its nothing even close to the stuff he does so don’t freak out too much. That reminds me, I have some photos of him to post since a bunch of you keep bugging me for photos… “Coming soon: Jack” No, wait… that sounds weird, oh well, he is.

See, someone appreciates my blog. SEE. If you’re too lazy to click, ’cause I know some of you are it says:

“On another note. I
Click here and review me too, hos.

If you can’t speak (MSN that is) properly, why the hell are you talking to me? First, I have a name, not chick or anything else that will result in you getting a punch in the face. The question is “How are you?” NOT “U gud?” or any other retarded variation. Second, if you’re IQ is lower than that of a banana I suggest you go and lick some windows ’cause I don’t want to know. I’m sick of being harassed by sixteen-year-old morons who have the reading capability of an illiterate eight-year-old and are nauseated at the prospect of having any awareness of the world around them. I don’t care how many pizzas you ate before you vomited. I couldn’t care less that your ugly, stupid girlfriend just stuck a cheerio up her nose and can’t breathe. Oh and, the thing that gets me most, I’m not just here so you can see if your girlfriend is online or if Jack wants beer or vodka. RETARDS BE GONE.

’cause I’m really nice to all of you, some fun stuff I’ve found while magically floating about the internerd are as follows:

• Blood Chilling – Its New Scientist so it’s good.
• Apple sues Apple – Its funny ’cause its true.
• B3ta – Tee hee.

Tim – I’m still waiting for my neck kissing and hot secks. Until you deliver on that, no shoes for you.

Arfa – Come and see NY then. I promise I’ll keep all the weirdoes (bar me) away.

Clunkers I be

A cast is nothing more than pure torture that doctors inflict on you when you do something stupid. Not only do they weigh a ton but you are forced to choose a nice bright color just to make sure that everyone within a mile of you knows about it. Some smart doctor thought one day “Hey, if you’re dumb enough to break something, lets make sure everyone knows it.” That said, just because you can see the cast is there, it doesn’t invite you to a) point it out “Hey, you have a cast!” Buddy, did you think I didn’t already know that? b) Ask what happened, how it happened or if it hurt.

New rule: Next person to say “Hey, you have a cast!” will be beaten round the head with it. While we’re on the subject of new things, I have a new name. Yes, I am now “Clunkers.” Someone give me a break! I can’t help it if my cast goes clunk when I knock it now can I?

In other news, 2 + 2 = 5 (yes, Nerdabelle is here)
Standard rounding means that 2 could be equal to 2.4.
If thats the case then 2.4 + 2.4 = 4.8 Rounding 4.8 would give you 5.
Ha.

Who needs hands when you’ve got feet

My fingers have swelled up like pillows and its keeping me amused for the moment. I could really do with someone to stop me poking them like a child. It hurts but its endlessly funny. I can’t say painkillers wouldn’t be nice but they seem to be making my heart lazy (Its happy around 44 right now. That’s just a little slow). If not, my heart is just lazy or I’m amazingly fit. I wouldn’t mind the latter of the two…

Getting the gloves over my club for work last night was interesting but I’m sure I’ll get the hang of it eventually. It wasn’t anything special last night although I was forced to commit the ultimate sin. I took a week old iMac and destroyed it with fingerprint powder. I couldn’t possibly imagine why the owner wasn’t too happy. He scrubbed at it a bit but from what I could see, it didn’t help much. Looks like today he’ll be taking a trip to the apple store for a new one. I beg forgiveness from the apple gods.

Things I’ve learned:

• Walls do not like to be punched. A fist will break a wall and a wall will break your fist.
• It is almost impossible to wash your hair with one hand. I stood for a good five minutes holding the shampoo bottle wondering how I was going to get the shampoo out and into my hair. I’m allowed to be slow. I’m a cripple.
• A simple trip to Starbucks is slightly more complicated when you only have one hand to carry a coffee and a muffin as well as take your keys out and open the door to your apartment. Next time, I think I’ll send Jack.
• Typing with one hand isn’t easy either. This has taken me the best part of an hour to write.
• Forgetting that your hand is broken and then trying to pick something up, say a dog, isn’t helpful. I could have broken her too.
• I cannot for the life of me open my cookies. I’m ready to take a knife to them and just stab at them like a crazed animal.

The one handed typist.

I broke my hand. Basically, the end of the metacarpal bone takes the force of the impact, which breaks the narrow area near the end and bends down toward the palm. I can’t say its too comfortable. For those of you who like pictures, it works a little like this:

As soon as I get my hands on the xrays I’ll post pictures of them for all to see. Explaining what happened to everyone is getting a little tedious. This is the last time I explain it. As I’m sure you know, things with the father aren’t too wonderful at the moment and his call just provoked me. That said, throwing my cell across the room so hard it smashed probably wasn’t the best of ideas. As things go when you’re angry, I just got more frustrated that my $400 cell was lying in about 18,000 pieces on the floor and punched the wall, as you do… My father really is the only person who is able to piss me off quite so much. I’ll present him with a medal when I next see him.

To answer the other general, slightly annoying questions, yes it hurts, yes there is a dent in the wall and no I don’t have a cast.

Note: I’m typing with one hand so all you assholes who’ll point out my typos can STFU. kkthnx