Bored. Weezer is Playing. It's Way Too Late.

Some may recall a post from last spring in which I said some silly things about punching through walls and so forth. Turns out that fist-based demolition of Alex Bryan is a trickier business than fist-based demolition of drywall. That is to say, my left index finger never looked quite so swollen and black and blue and, well, just plain busted-ass, from punching a wall as it ended up looking after I punched Alex this weekend. We're talking every point of articulation. Swollen. Blue-ish, but mostly black. Gross ass.

This happened a couple days ago, and a few of you have already heard the bitching and moaning about my busted ass finger.

That's not what this post is about.

This post is about the fact that, aside from the last knuckle which still kinda looks like it has frostbite or something, my finger is almost completely better, and so I am left sitting here, bored but feeling like I should post something, with nothing to write about besides my general amazement, gratitude, and affection for whatever human healing process is at work in this scenario.

In other news, I forgot my breakinzies for track today, but the spell check is working.

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