Long Story Short ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Meet Ernest, the Newest Member of My Family I spent Labor Day weekend in Vermont, the free-est of all vacation spots (thanks Mom and Dad!) with my beautiful Bailey, she of the four doggie facial warts, and the handsome Professor K. It was freezing and rainy and foggy, but we managed to find other things to do besides swim and sunbathe. *Ahem* Um, not dog sex though, if that's the impression I just gave. Cause, no. One of the things that we found could keep us busy was drinking. Have you heard of it? When you dump a gallon of booze down your throat and then consider the subsequent bumping into things to be an activity? It's fun if you're not familiar with it. Try it! Today even! Anyway, I somehow I came away from the weekend with serious drinking injuries. For the first time in maybe forever? Since college when I dropped, and smashed, an entire glass of red wine on my foot and created the REDDEST INJURY EVER, complete with permanent toe scar? Who knows? People who suffer from drinking injuries don't always have good memories. Yes, so, the injuries. While cooking a pork loin on Sunday night (seriously, the BEST pork loin in the history of mankind) I managed to burn my finger. Like I literally mashed my left index finger again a scalding hot pan. The best part? Was that I didn't even realize it until the next day at two o'clock when we were driving home. What reminded me? I have a GIGANTIC blister on that finger. The biggest blister in the entire world, even. Bigger than the pork loin that created it! I know, kinda gross right? But I have had this stupid blister since Sunday and it will not pop. Professor K insisted it would pop Monday night. Then yesterday he was all, "That bad boy is popping ANY MINUTE!" Because he is the resident expert on burn blisters, apparently. It's still there, even now as I'm typing this. And it is interfering with my job, as I type a lot at work. In fact, I type a lot in my personal life. But maybe I should apply for long term disability? Yesterday I decided to name him, since he seems to be sticking around. I decided on Ernest, he just kind of looks like an Ernest, but the Professor wanted me to name him "Leigh King". Get it? Huh? Do you? Cause I didn't, not until he was like, "DUH! Leigh King? LEE KING? LEAKING?" Gross. THEN! Last night I was walking into our bedroom sans cullotes and the Professor gasped, "Where did you get that giant bruise on your ass?" I looked in the mirror and confirmed that there was, in fact, a gigantic bruise on my ass. And come to think of it, my elbow had been kind of smarting for the last few days... Apparently at some point I fell down an entire flight of stairs on Sunday and I have absolutely no recolletion of it. Do you think I should join AA now? Or just stop going to Vermont? 8:14 p.m. - 2006-09-06 -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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