2001-07-05 :: 3:07 p.m.

My feet are a declared disaster area.

I'm full of blisters, cuts, a healing tattoo, Bacitracin-slathered, and two severely banged and scraped toes from where I totally tripped like an asshole on a friend's front stairs and skinned them alive.


I am constantly washing my hands yet my fingernails are perma-dirty. Someone please explain this to me.

Oh. Funny things:
Driving to the airport the other night to pick up the MC, we were all kinds of giddy hysterical late-night laughing in the car. Jersey Jean suggested I call the airline to make sure his flight was arriving on time. So I called. And in hysterics, after verifying that it was on time, I said to the lady: "That's good. Because we have a very important person on this flight..." And I cracked up and hung up before I could hear her response.

If I gave a little background info on the MC, this would probably be a lot funnier. But she did a good job of it a while ago.

Also funny: Dirty was getting a little rowdy and My Boy said "Dirty, this is an airport! Act like it!" And immediately, we stuck our arms out and ran around in circles making airplane noises.

Yes, we're eleven. No, we're not ashamed.

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