Tuesday, March 11


Screw growing old gracefully. I can take the gray hairs and the lightweight status that alcohol now brings down on me. But THE one thing I hate about growing old is additional ear hair.

My parents have one of those magnifying mirrors that demonstrates how bad your skin is. Today, quite grossly, I was trimming the aforementioned ear hair with my little pair of scissors. It was going well. In fact I developed reckless abandon. And snip. I cut into the fleshy part of my ear.

So I currently have a piece of toilet tissue wedged into my ear in a futile yet facile attempt to blot the blood.

Comedy injury.

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