Martha, cutters, baby oil, OH MY!

What a lovely, lazy day of slicing apart cardstock coupons with a box cutter at my desk, one by one by one by one by one by one... What can i say, it's not my fault that KMART is sold-out of the highly anticipated "Martha-derm", the latest suppository which has some of the following effects: the appearance of having suffered mild stroke, an irreversible desire to only wear pastels, a new ignorance of the outside world (husbands, kids, jobs) coupled with a surprising adeption to create complicated useless pieces of crap that you like to call "crafts", ending in your need to give them away because you believe the world needs more gaud and by GOD you're going to daintily cram it down their throats as you would a lady-finger-crust orange-meringue lemon petit four assortment. Homemade of course.

I vehemently apologize to the world for the lack of hand-huge-industrial-guillotine-slicing-thing coordination, it's not my fault the usual hand-eye coordination, hard won from years of copious video game training, doesn't seem to be finessed enough for me to wield our office scythe. However, with the latest controls and systems, *cough* Wii, even the most seasoned nose-picker will be able to hone is skills into a zombie-fighting sword-swinging girlfriend-boxing racecar-driving tennisball-smashing grapplinghook-shooting demi-god.

I am now of the opinion that certain games and systems should come with a free case of baby oil. You know, for your girlfriend to rub over your enlarged, uh, pectoral muscles as she screams "Swing that nunchaku baby!". There's nothing manlier than my guy running around as a scrawny elf-thing (that we all know is totally gay cause in all the time he's been doing things for that princess of his she's not once given it up) hurling his boomerang of the winds to move the drawbridge so that he can ass-sway his way over to save the shrieking deamon-monkies in order to battle a purple and green (obviously phallic) venus fly trap with enlarged red lips and a tounge that's just longing for a taste of.... well, if you've played Zelda:Twilight Princess, then you know what happens next.

On a completely different note: These rehearsals and concerts are killing me. Not to mention the immediate fantasies of red-hot branding irons near whatever deity is actually controlling the whole show when i remember that i don't have a car. My friends are so lovely and have been giving me rides right and left but, sometimes it's not where you're going, but how you get there, and it really feels good to do it on your own. Sigh. In other news my fingertips are molting, as is the winter tradition. Soon they'll break free of their cumbersome restraints and head south until Spring. For now they're meeting up with Monsieur Papier for the last hour of work. He's alright that Mr. Papier, but a little to far into bdsm. I always come out with cuts in the end...