Today, I stabbed myself with a fork and chopped off about half of the cuticle on my thumb.
Teach me to eat brownies at 8 a.m.
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My first place was a pink trailer house on the Rosebud Indian Reservation in South Dakota. I also tend to have bad luck. This is my life. It would be boring if it weren't so weird.
I have a question. How do you stab yourself with a fork? Was your hand to close to the brownie? Did your fork hand become confused at what was food and what was not? I have a feeling that hair color has more to do with this accident than time does.
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