Tough Love

No knitting news here. Don't ask me what I did to my arm, but I sure as hell did something because it's hurting like a mo fo. I don't know if I strained it or pull something or what; seriously, I don't remember doing anything specific to it. It feels just like it did the time my brother broke me while we were on a family vacation (story for another time for those of you who don't remember that incident)...but not quite that bad. I don't feel like passing out or hurling yet. Geesh, for the past six months or so it has been injury after injury. Just when I start to heal and think I'll be able to stop being such a couch potato and get off my ass and start working out again, something else comes up. And, for the record, I don't think it's a knitting (or repetitive motion) injury because it's my left arm and I'm right handed all the way. Alright, enough with the bitching (with all the swear words can you tell that I'm in pain?...well, actually those of you who know me well enough would just think that I'm finally starting to sound like myself on this blog). But, anyway, in this case, no news is definitely not good news. But while there hasn't been any knitting, there has been sewing. I'm almost done with the baby quilt for Carole's baby shower this Saturday. I probably shouldn't be working on that either with my arm jacked up, but I am determined to get this sucker finished in time, damn it. I was never, ever on time picking Carole up in the morning when we were carpool buddies, but I sure as hell am going to finish this quilt on time. I'm making a point of it. And it is turning out SO cute. Oh, I can't wait to take pictures and post them. But not yet. So, this is a no picture post.

So, no crafting news, but a little life rambling...which will probably shock and disgust some of you, but hey, if you want to know the real me...Today at work as I was walking through one of the desk areas, I rounded a corner and saw Tom (our ordering guy) at his desk staring off into the lab. And I had the urge to throw a gummie bear at him (his head specifically). So I told him so. (A gummie bear because Salena has a whole container of them on her desk.) Anyway, he didn't seem to take the news very well. I told him that was a good thing and he shouldn't take it personally, but he seemed kind of doubtful. So later I had to go back and explain.

Remember grade school? Remember how boys and girls showed their affection? By picking on each other! That's right! Well, I don't think I've ever fully gotten over that thought process. In fact, mentally speaking, I've probably elevated it. My friend David (that's dancing shoes David to you) and I have this joke (only it's not really a joke) about me and my violent toughts. In high school, I would have random violent thoughts about my friends...and I always thought they were hilarious. (I once checked with a couple people to see if I was a freak and the verdict was no because I didn't act on the thoughts. That makes it official to me. So if you think I'm a freak, well you're just wrong.) A couple examples:

This is the one I gave Tom. Once, in chemistry class, after we had taken our exams so we had a lot of free time, I was walking by David's desk (yes, the same David) and he was sitting cross-legged on top of it playing cards. And for some reason I thought it would be great to just push him off and watch him fly. Don't worry, I didn't; but I did tell him about it. And we both laughed...me, cuz I thought the image was hilarious, and David probably because he thought I was crazy, but let's not be picky.

Another time I was walking down the hallway with a group of my friends and this girl (who was part of our group but I won't tell you her name because I never told her this story) was walking in front of me. And in my head I thought about kicking her in the butt and watching her fly down the hallway...and then I started to laugh because this image was also hilarious to me. David was there too and when I told him why I was laughing, again he laughed too. See, I'm either not crazy or I'm too scary for people to admit it.

Wow, I just realized how crazy I must sound. I'm not crazy people, I swear. Anyway, so the point, as I explained to Tom, is that if I have violent thoughts towards you, then that means I like you; you are my friend. Well, as long as I find those thoughts amusing anyway. (Sometimes I have violent thoughts towards strangers, but that's because they are royally pissing me off, and there is nothing funny about them.) This doesn't mean the opposite is true. I can totally love you and never have violent thoughts about you. Tom paraphrased it like this...if I like you, I'll beat the shit out of you. Mentally anyway. Which isn't necessarily true, but he's sort of got the gist. It's more like a (mental) sucker punch in the face = love. : ) Which cracks me up, because what would someone think if instead of saying "I love you", I said "I hit you in the face"? Alright, even I admit it, I am crazy.