Friday, August 13, 2004

Cliff Catches Fire

Yesterday I blogged but didn't post. Please, god, forgive me. It was primarily an extended paranoid delusion. Probably best kept for just me dig into. So why am I bothering to write it here? Because I want attention and concern. Are you worried yet, about my psychological health? Ok, Conor Bright Eyes, just for you I'm sticking a safety pin into my thumb so I'll cry and all the nurses will come running.

I'd like to take this opportunity to adverstise a new fellow blogger called Mark. You can find his thoughts at www.makdwyer.blogspot.com. And that's mak, not mark, before the dwyer.

Yesterday's blog began with "I'm moving." It ended: "She’s good—she’s not—she’s good—she’s not. Christ, are those my voices again or theirs?" Are you cliff-hung? Are you hung like Cliff?

Speaking of which I'd like to take this time to advertise the best-tasting sports bar out there: the Clif bar. Tastes good, gives energy, and contains a heaven-load of proteins and many other fine nutrients. And it actually tastes good. Thank god for Clif. I came to work yesterday without my license, without my ATM card, and without money. But I did have two Clif bars and a box of Sun-Maid raisins. They saved me like Jesus saves others.

But why all this talk of yesterday? Here is today. Right now today includes TBSA, obviously the commonly-used acronym for total burn surface area. Have you checked yours recently? If not, I suggest you do, because it could be the cause of your sleep troubles, particularly if you are currently hospitalized for severe burns. This is what I have learned so far today. There must be so much more!!

(I feel like Six Feet Under's Claire when she was at the dinner table recently, on some x-like drug. (This, by the way, is the only show I refer to as if its characters are real, because they are.) O bliss.)




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