Meet the Fiends Living in my Sock Drawer...

All Randolph seems to do is sit on his very old beanbag and gossip while inhaling bacon sandwiches. A day isn't complete without someone else's tale of misfortune for him to wallow around in. The worst part is listening to him say, "That appeals to my sense of humor," every time someone has something depressing to share. Seriously, out of all the weirdos in my sock drawer, Randolph is the one I would most like to see mauled by my Miniature Pinscher.

Meet the Fiends Living in my Sock Drawer

Being an imp, Pubby is prone to doing naughty things. Nothing catastrophic (like filling a car with seawater and eels), he simply takes great delight in dabbling in the annoying. For example he never flushes the toilet. And he's always adding drops of Tabasco to the juice in the fridge. His favorite trick is convincing someone to pull his finger and then vomiting all over their shoes.

Italicizing Objects

I’m curious, if all writing were in italics, would people emphasize important words by using a normal font?

And speaking of italics…

I’ve often wondered what would happen if I stuck an image between the <I></I> tags.  Well, today I did just that, and the results are rather surprising:

Ghosts in my garden

I’m kind of shaken.

I went outside to take photos of my blueberry bushes like I do every Wednesday at this time, and what should I see in one of the images, but a couple of ghosts.

Now, I’m not one hundred percent certain these are actually spirits I’ve captured; they could be smudges on the lens from the moth I killed.  But they certainly look like two little girls, don’t they?

It’s so creepy, yet annoying all at once.  Because if they are ghosts, they never asked if they could pick my blueberries.

Friends

Changing Brain

I broke my finger ten years ago.  (Is it legal to use that many hyphens?)

I was playing football and a brief lapse in my three dimensional sensory abilities resulted in the ball bouncing violently off my left ring finger, fracturing the bone and snapping the tendon.

I was worried I would need surgery, but fortunately only a splint (and eight weeks) was needed for the thing to heal back to normal.

Or should I say “nearly normal” as the finger mended itself in a slightly bendy sort of way. (It bends and wiggles in a noticeably weaker fashion than it had before the accident.)

Interestingly this weakness has leached it’s way into the entire hand, and I’ve noticed myself doing things with my right hand that not too long ago I would have been doing with my left.

Like twisting off lids from jars of pasta sauce.

It’s a strange feeling, this shift in handedness.  I can actually feel it changing my brain.  Making me more literal, more prone to logic than I used to be.

I have to say I don’t like it.

Pimping Myself

Would you be so kind as to like my author's page?  I know this is not very becoming of me, pleading with virtual strangers like this, but as I’m quickly discovering, marketing one’s self means letting go of one’s dignity.