(no subject)
I have a wart on my palm.
That's gross, I know, but it's even more gross how I deal with it: a DIY biopsy complete with tweezers and an exacto knife. I sat at my kitchen table, gingerly slicing away at the hideous protrusion of flesh, while my father watched with consternation.
"You know, I really don't want you doing that. They have things at the drug store you can take it off with. I don't like you cutting it, you could slip and end up cutting something deep and vital."
In my palm, there are so many deep and vital things, right?
I'm not really listening as I continue my makeshift surgery, but my father proceeds to caution me, gently deploring me while I work.
Then my mother walks into the dining room, witnesses my act of wart debauchery, picks her foot up onto the table, and says, "Here, cut this off. It's been bugging me since childhood."
My dad stared agape at her.
I love my family ^_^.
That's gross, I know, but it's even more gross how I deal with it: a DIY biopsy complete with tweezers and an exacto knife. I sat at my kitchen table, gingerly slicing away at the hideous protrusion of flesh, while my father watched with consternation.
"You know, I really don't want you doing that. They have things at the drug store you can take it off with. I don't like you cutting it, you could slip and end up cutting something deep and vital."
In my palm, there are so many deep and vital things, right?
I'm not really listening as I continue my makeshift surgery, but my father proceeds to caution me, gently deploring me while I work.
Then my mother walks into the dining room, witnesses my act of wart debauchery, picks her foot up onto the table, and says, "Here, cut this off. It's been bugging me since childhood."
My dad stared agape at her.
I love my family ^_^.