Pain meds make the present feel like your warm, fuzzy memories of the past

Nov 20, 2004 21:19

Ah, the joys of second-degree burns to the left hand. My index finger got it particularly badly. That's too bad; it's one of my favourite fingers. It's very expressive. Middle finger is a hulking, surly gorilla; he doesn't talk much, and he tends to be rather uncouth when he does. Ring finger is elegant likes to get dressed up, but I'm afraid I just don't get to take her to many fancy restaurants these days. She probably cries herself to sleep at night, but, cold-hearted bastard that I am, I just ignore her. And Pinkie, well, Pinkie tries, God bless him, but he's really more of a muttering hunch-backed assistant to Index's eloquent mad-doctorial genius.

And yes, how could we forget the proletariat of the hand, Thumb. When Thumb and Index work in unison, they can accomplish great things. But like a snooty ruling class, Index tends to leave Thumb out of most of its speeches, except when it needs someone's head squished. Some day the thumbs will rise up and crush the tyranny of the fingers, but after today's hot oily assault, there has been a general call for all citizens of Hand-Land to set aside their differences, and once again be opposable, not opposing.

I need DVDs, people. Gonna be watching a lot of movies for the next three days. If anyone feels like bringing some by, I'd be very appreciative. (You can even have a mandarin orange while you're here! They're like efficiency fruit for the working man!)
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