Look Out!

Not even kidding, about a month ago, when I got home from work I parked in my driveway like always. Somehow magically my car door and my face collided mid-air. I was in a hurry to get to a bonfire, so I just rushed in to the house. My mother asked why my eye was bleeding, so I explained the freak accident, she got me a bag of ice. I changed for the bonfire, called a friend to pick me up, and finally sat down so my mother could "mother" me. The conversation went about like this:

Dad: Wow. Yeah, you'll probably have a black eye tomorrow.

Me: Noooo!!! I can't! I have to work tomorrow! I can't have a **** black eye! I'll call in sick before I go to work and have to explain what happened!

Mom: That should be interesting. You can't call out stupid.

Dad: (laughs hysterically)

Me: (laughs, then cries a bit because my face hurts)

I leave for some fun, my friend driving, and stop at the convenience store to get some supplies (read: alcohol). I had a single sip of vodka on the drive out, and explained the last minute chauffeuring, and the bag of ice on my temple. We get to the party, and somewhere on the drive I started getting a little, um, fuzzy. Like one too many drinks fuzzy. On one sip of vodka. People thought I'd been hitting the sauce pretty hard, until a brilliant friend got out a flashlight and tried to get me to follow it.... No go.
Turns out I didn't get to have a drink at the bonfire, as I had a mild concussion and didn't need beer to act like the crazy person I already was.

I slept like crap later on that night, as I'd roll over on my face and wake myself up. But I didn't have a black eye, thank goodness, just a headache and a blue-ish tinted eyelid for a week...

I'm still alive! (Honest!)

I will post a real bit soon, but I have been busy being on vacation, then working, judging (a parade, that is) and working some more, not to mention digging holes and baking like a crazy person, to get to my computer long enough to write anything down! I will soon, promise!!

Murder on the Bookshelf

A quick side note: I returned to my Juneau home last week, and haven't gotten a new post up yet as I had a surprise welcome home party, two dinners, and The Avengers to catch up on! Oh! And changes to the house made in my absence.


I had another bathroom post in the works, when my dear old dad called me into the front room to look at something. Quick, and crime were uttered somewhere in there. And this is what I beheld:

Oh No! Not Mr. Mann!!

E. Quin is running from the scene of the crime!!!

So we called in the CSI team. And they took photos:

The Scene

(Mother wouldn't let us use real chalk)

BLOOD!

The victim looks as though he was in pain.

After the body was moved.

The worst part of it all, they looked as though they were such good friends, Mr. Mann and E. Quin. I mean, they played so well together up until E kicked him off the shelf. These pictures were taken in happier times:

Playing Tag.

E. Quin and Mr. Mann's humble abode.