Monday, May 12, 2008

Quite possibly, almost certainly, insane

Good morning. May I introduce you to the latest flaw in my make-up? I'm a klutz. Somewhere between the decision to find sleep and actually finding sleep at around 11 last night, I gouged the hell out of my forehead. Imagine the dismay on Sir's face when I showed it to him; it's a right goodly owie. Woke up this morning still drunk, scrunched my face up in my usual [adorable] morning face scrunch, and noticed that part of my forehead did not move. Reached up to feel my forehead like it was simply an annexed foreign part, and noticed further still that it was crunchy to the touch and my first thought was, did I chop a pimple off my face with an ax? Ran to the sink in my bedroom, flipped the light on and stared, panicked.

Sir doesn't have a clue how I did it; he was drunker than I was. I'm totally PSYCHED that my skin all around it ("IT" is this giant dance of words trying not to call it what it is: an inexplicable fucking deep gash in my forehead - ohhh, that's why...too many words) looks gorgeous. Look at my skin. Isn't that some nice skin?

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