I leave for India in 25 days. There is STILL a wedding ring mark on my finger. Maybe it's permanent. Gawd. India will erase it, I hope. An exorcism may be in order. Or a tattoo, some kind of flesh offering. I did leave the tip of my little finger in my gym bag, reached in to find my comb and a razor sliced it right off, ouch. I went to the desk and asked nicely for a bandaid while bleeding on the floor. Total biohazard.
When I come back from my trip, Obama will be president and he will have inherited a huge crapola mess. I wonder where all the crooks go when they die? Are they recycled as bugs? slime mold? jello mold? permafrost? jujubes? Remember those? I pulled out fillings with jujubes, oh and turkish taffy too. I was an odd child, too much Greek and Roman mythology as a 6th grader. I read anything I could get my hands on. Medusa with the snakey hair, now that was a fantastic woman, turned mortals into salt if they looked at her. Yas.