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Sunday, January 3, 2010


Reaching down to peel a sticker off of the grocery store floor, I had placed my hand on the underside of the metal counter to steady myself. One day, there'll be a market for discarded banana stickers, I just know it! As I gripped tighter to prepare to bring myself back to an upright position, I slid forward simultaneously and opened the crease in my thumb like a book. It was a squirter.

In the wake of the "Twilight" franchise, I'm sure there's a market out there for this prodigious stream evacuating my finger. I should have gotten a vial and soled it to a "vegan" vampire, or at least, one attempting to wean himself off of blood.

Well, I painted a door frame, the wall and much of the floor with my biological ink. After haphazardly wrapping my finger in gauze, it now looks like a Minny-mummy attached to my hand. Anytime the finger throbs I have a crazy urge to build it a sarcophagus; I've settled for decorating it with crude hieroglyphics.

What's the moral here? I should have settled for falling on my face. Guess it's either my teeth or my hands. Maybe a better question is, when attempting a complex task like the one mentioned above, which one of my limbs is most expendable?

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