My most brilliantly horrible ideas come to me in the wee hours of the morning. I’mma start a meetup group, or record “Inhale” on the Oxygen network so I can do yoga again, or “I should really blog about addictions to destructive people because that’s what’s happening on DOOL,” or finally, “I should blog (do we notice a trend here?) about stupid women.” These are the thoughts that plague me around 4am, when I’m pinned down by at least one...
It is the winter of my… no, wait, that’s wrong. Four score and seven years ago… no, that’s not it, either. OUCH MY FREAKING TOE HURTS! Yep, that’s it. Its time for my semi-annual, autumn “you will sit and like it” foot/ankle/knee/toe injury. This year’s winner is the ingrown toenail from hell. I’m so mad that yes, I’m going to speak of my disgusting toe. I have a genetic predisposition to this plague. My mother had six of her toenails...
