I'm not good with knives. Well, I am. I can dice an onion in under a minute. A fine dice. But... about 5% of the time, I'll also dice my finger.
My senior year in college, my roommate and I had dinner parties every Friday night, and at least half of the parties had one of my wrapped in paper towels and dripping blood.
When I moved to St. Louis, I finally bought a nice set of knives. I called my old roommate, Jane (yes, the one that sent me the "Think Pink" beach ball), and told her. Her response? "Have you cut yourself yet?" I had to say yes.
I've cut my fingers at least twice since I moved to Akron, but tonight was the big one. It's been over an hour, and I'm still bleeding. And in pain. And taking my favorite pain killer: a combination of wine and Tylenol.
So, that's why I can't blog today. And, luckily, Matt wants to share something with the Internet. So here you are.
Like many secretly good-hearted misanthropes, I have taken a substantial liking to Dr. House from the eponymous show. Tonight's Actor's Studio rerun on Bravo featured Hugh Laurie, the unapologetically british-sounding England native--genius--who gives life to Dr. House.
Sidenote: (and, yes, I know I am not the first person to make this observation) Will Ferrell's take on James Lipton is not only hysterical, its uncannily accurate--Ferrell could stand (sit) in, ask the form questions ("what is your favorite word?" "what is your least favorite word?") no one would be the wiser .
Anyway, my Dr. House man crush and my affinity for mid-70s Tom Waits dovetailed perfectly in this, which, as Marcia explained, I feel compelled to share with the internet: