So for the last 3 weeks my pointer finger has been swollen and immobile but I’ve avoided the doctor because I’m pretty sure it’s some sort of karmic payback because a month ago there was this guy in our lobby and he was on crutches and missing a leg and I smiled at him and he gave me this look like we knew each other but I didn’t recognize him so I kept walking but then I realized he totally works in my department and I wanted to go back and be all “Oh, hey you! I haven’t seen you in weeks! How are you?” but I was afraid he’d see my whole “Oh, I didn’t even recognize you without your leg” look and so instead I just pretended like he’d always been without a leg, which is probably totally inappropriate and then like a day later my finger stopped working and I’m pretty sure it’s some sort of karmic punishment from God, who, by the way, throws a pretty kick-ass church camp. I know because I went to my first church camp thingy last week because (I don’t know why this is so hard for you people to believe) I work for a Christian organization that likes to hire heathens and it was actually kind of awesome except that it was out in the woods and all I could think about is that it’s totally the kind of quiet place that hot teenagers get slaughtered by axe-murderers but only the skanky ones having sex so I figured that I was safe but then the second night I had sex and I was all “Great. Now I’m fucked”. I should mention here that my husband works with me so it wasn’t like I was having sex with a stranger. I may not be a good Christian but I don’t just go around having sex with random strangers at Jesus camp, thankyouverymuch. But the whole time all I could think about was the giant wooden cross nailed to the wall of our cabin and when I first walked in and saw the cross the first thing I thought was “WTF? Am I in Van Helsing’s room?” And then later Victor was all “We made baby Jesus cry” and yeah, we probably did, but I’d like to think Jesus stopped listening after I totally accidentally said “holy shit” in the chapel and then right after that I had a discussion with this guy over whether “holy shit” or “fuckity-fuck-fuck” was more blasphemous and I say “holy shit” is worse but I guess it doesn’t really matter since technically I said both. And then I was attacked by a plague of these abominations. And by “plague” I mean “one” but he was really jumpy and also could FUCKING FLY so I’m pretty sure he counts as like 12. And then I started thinking that since all the land at Jesus Camp is blessed and holy it would totally be an awesome camp for Highlanders and then I started wondering if all the water in the toilets was technically holy water and it freaked me out so bad I couldn’t poop for like 3 days. It was probably all in my mind though, much like my zombie finger. But then my mom came down this weekend and saw my finger and my achey feet and she said I probably have what she has, which was cystic something-or-another so I got all panicky and called my doctor today and was all “I THINK I HAVE CYSTIC MALAYSIA” and the nurse was all “Malaysia is a continent” and then I was all “Oh, well something like that…systemic ambrosia? Does that sound right?” and apparently it didn’t because she put me on hold AND THEN HUNG UP ON ME. While I’m suffering from Cystic Psychosis. But then like 5 minutes later she called back and set up an appointment for tomorrow but I’m thinking of cancelling it because I’m pretty sure it’s something fatal because the nurse was all “Uh, I’m just gonna write down ‘hurty finger’ in your chart” but she was writing for a really long time so I’m pretty sure she wrote something like “Get paid up front. This chick’s a fucking goner.”
PS. It isn’t cystic fibrosis. I can’t remember what it’s called but my mom looked it up last night on wikipedia and it was un-deadly and said something about being brought on by stress. It didn’t explicitly mention the stress of possibly doing it in front of Jesus but I honestly can’t imagine that helped.
PPS. If they cut off my finger I’d want everyone to call me ‘Four-Finger McGee’.
PPPS. Except technically I guess I’d have nine fingers. But two are thumbs so really that’s seven? Fuck. Never mind. Just call me ‘Jenny’.
Comment of the day: I knew a chick who had her (very large) dog’s scrotum tanned after he was knackered, and then made a necklace-pouch-stash-bag-thingie out of it. Maybe not as cool as having your own finger on a string, but pretty fucking cool anyway. And the pot took away some of the smell of leathery dog ballsack. And it probably would’ve been pretty confusing to police dogs: bark at the necklace? Lick the necklace? ~ TJ