But then the restraining order would MEAN misery. Not that we're going anywhere near these people. And it's not like I'd jump one of them if I saw them. Blow kisses, maybe.
Quote:
Originally posted by **Shannon**
Mine was from a baking tray with pastry goods on it. Pies, I think. My friend and I were cooking lunch.
|
Heh, heh.
Pies.
Quote:
|
Also, I have a small scar forming on my figer where I slammed (Heh, I wrote "smalled") it into a bin at KFC three weeks ago while drunk.
|
That's a great story. "Figer," by the way?
Just to be clear, your KFC is also Kentucky Fried (NOT "Kitchen Fresh," you advertising agency morons) Chicken, right?
Years ago, my dog scratched me on the hand and I got a scar from it. It never healed. Now that she's passed on, it kind of makes me feel better to see the scar every once in a while (although I'm freaking out because it's finally started to fade a little, I think, but I could just be thinking that because I don't WANT it to). Is that weird?
Quote:
|
Well, at least we're not ALONE and sick. Misery loves company, yeah? Though, I wouldn't call it misery. Happy misery?
|
Happisery! Or just happiness, as I'm not miserable at all.
But, yeah, I think not being alone in this case is called "having an accomplice."
__________________
"I'm here to crush dreams, what can I say?" --Janelle, Big Brother 7
"What is love if cops don't come? I'm sorry, if you've never broken into my house or threatened my pets, you don't love me." --Storm Large