![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr3gNuL0DhcD6Bz4_F4qjdMu96VdylYpKyaw8SwD3HR456XDWlGeXmFsd3G8XQ8J-Qkbcn946yaNjoOyfHGkDvgzjUM4chryxSAejQAOCNcBDlh5oV5hh-EIN4Ro0mFycxME_-rg/s400/cawker.jpg)
Remember when I punched the wall, causing a painting to fall and destroy our thermostat? The hijinks continued last week. I'm turning into a walking pratfall. Last Wednesday, I was bringing my fist down on my leg to emphasize a point about an "American Idol" contestant's shitty singing voice but I missed my aim and racked myself hard in the right testicle. On Saturday, I thought a water bottle I'd been drinking was empty and flipped it in the air and caught it. It still had a little water in it, and my glasses and face got drenched.
Texas A&M's press has I think cornered the market on boredom with an upcoming book I have been unlucky to proofread. The whole book is about twine! Twine, goddamnit! I proofread the index today, and while I think it notable that a scholarly tome was written about twine, it is even more notable that the index has entries for both Michel Foucault and "Weird" Al Yankovic.
3 comments:
before i read the second paragraph, i thought the photo was a creative rendering of your right testicle. i wondered to myself, "what did he google to get that?"
When you aren't breaking things in anger, you are an extremely amusing husband.
I keep singing "the biggest ball of Twine in Minnesota." I also want to hear Velvet Elvis.
Yeah! Nut-punchingly good music!
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