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Seething Cakes of Hatred

Making pancakes, as I learned at AP's birthday bash at the beach this weekend, is an unbelievably tedious chore. I don't know why I...

Thursday, April 21, 2005

You Are the Boss of Me

Last night I asked the guy I'm seeing if he would still date me if I didn't have feet. He said he might. I think it is important to clear up those issues early on in the relationship, don't you?

After he half-heartedly agreed to dating a potentially footless Toddy, he gave me some medicine for my foot pain and tried to get me to stop worrying so much about my appointment with the podiatrist today. I'm not sure why I'm so nervous. Maybe it is because I almost never go to the doctor.

I know I will be okay, but some of the comments I received yesterday were kind of scary. But some of the comments made me laugh. What really cracked me up was the people who said I should contact my health care provider. If you knew where I worked, you'd laugh too.

Anyway, I can't believe I have blogged about my feet two days in a row. And the day before that I blogged about car wrecks and nuns. What is going on here? I have officially run out of material. I apologize, dear readers, but I may have to solicit your help.

What the hell should I write about!?

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