My weirdness in all it's forms, from rants to questions to detailed logs of my life.
The Reason we don't give me sharp, pointy objects.
I stab things. Hard. This time, it was just the side of my foot when I dropped the box knife while rushing to help Dad secure the friggin lights we just put up in the dining room. So dance practice tomorrow should be just oodles and ooddles of fun. rolleyes