It is a website. Not a commitment.
Please Read About How I Became a Hideously Deformed Freak.
And then How I Became More Of a Hideously Deformed Freak.
Even if you dont' want to read my lengthy expositions (each taking 18 hours to write) you can look at the pictures. I am thinking of using them for when I renew my membership to eharmony.
If anybody fulfills one of the assignments please let me know.
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14 comments:
You're right. It's not a commitment. We would miss you, but hey, it's your life.
Thanks for the yuks along the way.
(PS: I don't think you qualify for membership with the hideous and improbably deformed but keep walking through windows and you just might)
Scars, tattoos and birth marks.
They make us unique.
Still, walking through windows might just not be the best idea...
Marta, I beginning to see the wisdom of your final idea. j.
I often marvel that kids grow to adulthood. If we don't kill ourselves with stunts like these, we make our parents want to kill us.
Quilly That is a great observation--about other kids. But personally, I have to wonder, what kind of parents put a door on their house? And I can say that b/c I know for a fact that my parents don't have power right now, so there is no way that they can check this blog and claim that I am some how at fault. Because I wasn't.
When I was 18, I walked face-first into the sliding glass doors that led to my mom's patio and bloodied my nose. Alcohol may have played a role in that though...and it never happened again. As my niece often says, "you burn, you learn."
And Justin, you're not a freak! Not because of the scar anyway...
Stacy, have you thought about getting a cat? I mention this because the stray/abandoned cat who was living in my barn (as of last weekend she's a housecat) has blessed me with five adorable kittens...and I will gladly share the blessing.
bbw: how long ago was it that you walked into yo mamma's door.
jdk
Justin -- I wonder about people that put doors anywhere. They always seem to be in the way of those of us who are in a hurry and distracted by more important things.
I had a hideously disfiguring scar when I was about five years old and was playing with a sparkler on Christmas night. I caught on fire and my daddy had to wrap the rug around me to put it out. I had to miss some school because I had a third degree burn, and then I had this awful scar that I never showed to anybody.
Then when I grew up I decided to show some children the scar to keep them from playing with sparklers. I pulled up my clothes to reveal the horrid scar (and that was scarier to the kids than any scar could have been) and discovered that the scar had disappeared! Nowhere to be found! My lesson was useless. And I'm still hideous.
finding fair hope: it is a shame that your scar faded. If there is one thing I know, it is the pedagogical value of scars. Any time I see a kid getting near a door, I show them my scars and tell them to stop being so careless---that should enter and exit through windows or openings, but not doors. j.
"I had developed an infection that was moving up my arm."
I was once slapped silly for being an infection moving up a girl's leg. "Don't even go there!" she said. But hey, I was only 17, what did I know?
bert, its probably best that is how things played out. Else you could have been up cheek creak with her father. j.
Remember the scene in When Harry Met Sally when the Carrie Fisher character quotes the Bruno Kirby character back to him and he freaks out, because it's the first time he'd been quoted to himself? Yeah, me either...
Anyway, it's not the first time. I once wrote the tennis club monthly magazine and to spice it up, I made up a classified section. I had a lot of my phony ads quoted back to me. Bunch of silly people.
Remember the first time you were quoted back to yourself? Besides in bed?
I read your expositions. The 36 hours you spent writing them both was well worth it. I was moved.
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