One of the little “games” I’ve created to keep myself entertained around the ‘ol homestead is called “poopfinger”. It basically involves me smearing something that looks like poop, but is actually edible, on my finger and then either wiping it on someone or attempting to shove my finger in their mouth while shouting “poopfinger!”. In another variation I slip my finger just in the edge of their buttcrack and then try to make them smell it while saying “poopfinger”. I rarely do that one and only to Andy or Marley and even then only when I’m pretty sure their butts are clean.
Yes, I realize it’s terrifying that I won custody of my child in the divorce. I also realize Andy should have kicked me out by now but I’ve convinced him that all my little quirks are cute, part of my charm, and how I show love. I’m awesome that way.
So today I guess Karma or the universe or whatever decided to “poopfinger” me back. I was picking up old, soggy dog poop that had previously been covered by snow when I discovered there was a large hole in the grocery bag I was using. The worst part was, I was sort of digging it out of the grass so my middle finger got good and poopy. It was under my nail and everything. I’m pretty horrified.
It also made me wonder if some past poopfinger lead me to getting worms that time when I was 4. Awful thought, that.
That’s it. That’s the whole story. No moral, no climax, no action. Just, I got a real poopfinger and it wasn’t funny.
So, this is pretty much what my blog’s going to be like. Eventually I’ll make it look nicer and add a picture and stuff. I also want to do occasional comics on here. You know, since I went to all those free art classes when I was young and stuff. I may as well put that to use (unlike my degrees). So, if reading the hijinks of 37 year old woman with a grown daughter, doctorate degree, and the sense of humor of a 13 year old boy appeals to you, by all means, follow my blog.
Update: Not biting my nails is really, really hard. Curse you poopfinger! Curse you!