Like Kisha, I generally try to be a happy person, and I uber-hate confrontations. But sometimes rainbows and fucking glitter have to take a backseat to fire and brimstone and the half-evil side of me coming out (Mr Realist thinks I need a 333 tattoo). It's why I'm
I really don't have much to Bitch and Moan about today, LDs.
With the exception that I smashed my left middle finger on Friday trying to be generous and donate stuff to our local Salvation Army. Those bin lids are fucking. heavy.
My finger's all swollen up, the nail is an interesting shade of purple, and I just want to cut the fucker off...but Vicodin's been my friend, LDs.
My sweet, sweet friend.
So typing? I'm learning how to use my ring finger for the E and the D keys. I should have left all my lovely lovely typos in this postie so you could see how bad it is. :)
The good thing about this? Lots and lots of sympathy from Mr Realist.
And I'm milking that part, LDs. With some chocolate syrup.
How was your Independence Day weekend? And your Monday?
Tell us all about it.
Heepwah, and be safe out there.