yet another talent i cannot use to fight crime, and an exciting update

I have never encountered another individual with the talent for self-injury that I possess. I'm the MacGyver of klutz -- I could find a way to kill accidentally kill myself with an empty tissue box and a handful of cotton balls.

Yesterday morning while I was still legally unconscious, I found a way to slide across my bathroom floor as though it were buttered ice. The only reason I didn't wind up doing a cartoon-banana-peel-style slip-n-flip was that my foot (or more precisely, one of my toes; the next-to-last one, the one that "had none") cracked into the base of my toilet. Which happens to be a very, very old toilet made of porcelain, lead, and Kryptonite. I was afraid I'd broken it at first because of the horrible noise of the collision. Fortunately, I didn't. I did lose some skin, though.

Then last night while the rest of the city was gazing adoringly and unblinkingly at the sky flowers erupting overhead, (even though in Pittsburgh, they start setting off fireworks on July 3rd, but that's not much different than any other day ending in Y) my brother and I were assembling my new desk. Somehow during said assembly, I managed to drop the desk on -- that's right -- the same foot. Different toe, though. The desk landed on the big toe, the one who "went to market." This time, he's going in pieces; my desk took out a nice slice of toe. You may be asking yourself how I found the one bony area of my body and then managed to drop the one sharp edge of my extremely heavy desk directly onto it, but I have no answer for you.

I only know that today I shut two doors on that foot and hit it against my desk at work so many times that I lost count. Usually there are ruby slippers associated with this kind of unlikely landings of falling objects.

Coming soon to a blog that is this one: pictures! I bought a digital camera on Sunday. A new era of God Damn It, Amanda is upon us. One where I share with the world photographic representation of every new set of sheets I buy at Target. Apparently the iPod will be my final technological frontier. If that's the case, I hope never to make it to Oregon, as it were.