OK, I'm back! Let's start with an easy one so I don't wear myself out too much. It doesn't hurt to type, but it's cumbersome, and I'm prone to typos, so a warm up GF should be good. It still hurts like hell to hold a pen, so it's better than nothing.
Let's see. The stitches in my right palm feel kind of like how I imagined the hair Jeff Goldblum grew in The Fly would feel. Kinda weird but cool.
Hey, the WGA strike is over! Sorta. They're waiting to go back to work, probably to make sure the actors get their win, too. It would be nice. Thursday mornings are usually reserved for Last Week Tonight, and it would be nice to get back to that. A Closer Look would also be nice.
Elon Musk is still Elon Musk, sadly. So is Dion and the rest of the usual gang of idiots. Let's see if the box of rocks that calls itself the House of Representatives will shut down the government. Again. I'm sure they will because those dummies don't know how to play well with others. Hey, the State of CA gave a significant raise to its fast food workers at great cost to the corporations, so that's pretty cool. More of that, please and thank you.
I've been watching a lot of Boston Legal. I've got about a season and a half to go, and it's fucking batshit crazy. If I'd known how off the rails it was, I'd have watched it when it was live on TV. After that, I'm sure I will get AMC+ back for Negan's Friend, Daryl Dixon. I want to make sure it's over first before I commit. It would also be nice to see season two of Dark Winds.
Also, I'm high. Always a good thing, especially since it's so goddam hot in this house even though it shouldn't be. Getting high helps me sleep when it's like this. It also helps me ignore the horrid fucking rash on my wrist. I wonder if I'm maybe allergic to the wrapping on my hand. I doubt it. I've never been allergic to anything before EXCEPT for something in Old Spice soap. I'm certain I've gone over that before.
I wasn't always allergic to it, but they must have changed the ingredients. Or maybe my body changed. After soaping up my crotch it felt like my dick was on fire. It wound up raising blisters on my shaft that popped and ran. It looked like my tackle was falling off, it was that bad. The only comfort I found was at night when I was in bed with my legs spread wide and no boxers. I was in agony for the rest of the day.
Good luck scrubbing that image out of your head.
OK, that should do it. The juices are flowing again. Maybe tomorrow we'll do something more entertaining. Or thought-provoking. Or balls-out funny. We'll figure it out. Together.
Goodnight, fuckers.
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