Six thirty on a Saturday night finds your intrepid blogger wondering to herself two things:
1. Where is all the fucking beer, Butcher? I just want to sit out on the back porch and watch the sun set and have a nice cold beer, but all there is in the fridge is that caffinated Budweiser crap. I can’t drink that.
2. At what point is my fascination with Kleinheider going to lead to him calling the cops? Kleinheider, please, keep in mind what the Wayward Boy Scout says: I’m nuts, but nuts in a loveable way. Keep that in mind when I flash you. Not that I’m planning on flashing you. But, you know, if I accidently flashed you. I’m not dangerous.
Because, I went down to Smyrna to meet up with the bloggers who meet up and, aside from trying to talk Ivy’s daughter into going over and saying “boogers” to Brittney, the only other thing I accomplished was grilling Brittney about Kleinheider: “Is he charming and intriguing in person? Will you start a blog that is just pictures of what socks he has on that day? Do you think he wants to see my boob freckle? What does the C. stand for?” Etc.
Also, I met Gunner from Say Uncle (the blog, not the person) and was momentarily star-struck. So, star-struck, in fact, I forgot to ask him if he’d ever met Uncle and, if so, what he’s like.
So, good times.
In my face
Right under my left eye, very close to my nose. In face, when it happened, I thought the guy had just broken my nose, as there was a lot of blood and my nose felt kind of weird. We were having a fight over a chair in French class–obviously, I lost. But I did wander around the halls of the high school dripping blood everywhere, like some kind of horror movie. Finally, I found one of the football coaches who cleaned me up and band-aided me back together. It hurt a lot less than one might expect, but there was a surprising amount of blood.
I still notice it, but I don’t think anyone else does. It’s just a tiny little light crescent near some freckles.
On my right thumb
In another high school, in another class, I was having a disagreement with a boy about math*. I had my right hand just resting on the chalk board and was, with my left hand, correcting his work. I’m occasionally kind of insufferable, I suspect. He tried to stop me; I threw my hip into him and he stabbed me with his pen. That hurt like a motherfucker. “Fuck you, you stabbed me!” I screamed and he looked at the pen sticking out of my thumb and looked back at me in surprise and said, “Sorry.”
It’s about half an inch long, right near the base of my thumb. I think it’s almost unnoticeable, unless I show you my other thumb in comparison.
*Ha, which means, in retrospect, he was probably right, considering my lack of any discernable math skills.
The Jackass Mowing His/Her Lawn at Seven this Morning–One star
I’ll admit that, if we were scoring based on annoyance, you’d have five full golden stars, because, really, waking me up after six hours of sleep on a Saturday morning is, to me, very annoying. But I’m only awarding you one star because you don’t even have the excuse of it being hot. If it were going to be 95 today, by all means, mow the lawn before it gets unbearable. But today is supposed to be beautiful, so, unless you’re mowing early so that you can get out on your boat ASAP, you really suck. And, if you have a boat and you wake me up and don’t take me out on it, you suck even worse.
Black Cherry Vanilla Diet Coke–Four stars
I met Rachel for lunch yesterday and grabbed what I thought was a regular old Diet Coke out of the cooler. It wasn’t until I took a sip that I thought, “Hey! This is good, what is it?” I would have never tried it on purpose, but I’d have it again.
That Japanese Restaurant by 440–Two and a half stars.
It’s good but not outstanding and it’s expensive.
The Sunny Spot Mrs. Wigglebottom is Asleep in as We Speak–Five stars.
She is sound asleep, making the most darling tiny snoring noises, with one paw tucked up under her face and the others all stretched out as far as they’ll reach. The sunny spot is large enough that her whole body fits in it quite nicely.