Joanne kept punching the giant spiders, but they just kept coming. Each one more gianter than the last except the seventeenth on, which was smaller than the one proceeding it by at least three feet. By the time the ninety-sixth giant spider was there Joanne had to look way up because it was over thirty feet tall. “It’s gonna be one of those days,” said Joanne, referring to how this was the seventh time she’d had to spend a day punching a horde of giant things. It was actually the first time it was giant spiders, though she didn’t clarify that to the onlookers. She’d punched giant rats, giant ants, giant lobsters. She was confident the giant spiders could be lumped into the same category without anyone questioning it. So Joanne spent another day punching giant things. When all the spiders had received the necessary amount of punching, she dusted off her hands and said “The things I do for money,” referring to how punching hordes of giant things was outside the normal bounds of what one was expected to do in her line of work. Joanne works as a museum tour guide. Anyway, she got paid and took her kids out to a pizza place for supper.

The End.

I guess, since I don’t really have any other news to speak of, I’ve got to talk about my finger again.

The healing is going well as far as I can tell. Yesterday I noticed that my body was starting to keep things, like my wallet and sunglasses or whatever, in my right coat pocket again without this resulting in my finger gong “Hey, don’t do that! I’m broken over here!” so I consider that progress. Pretty soon I will be back to my usual standard of things I do with that hand (writing, drawing, tying my effing shoes) and I will like that. I guess it will take a little longer for things specific to my middle finger, but I don’t know that many things I do with just that finger. I can’t really snap my fingers without it, I guess. Also… uh… Flipping people off… I guess?… and… uh… fingerbanging? … Um.

Anyway, I’ll try to shut up about my finger until the final checkup now.

I am now on the Twitter. Who would have thought that this could have ever occurred? How many people bothered to think about it at all? Apart from me, probably not many. I guess a lot has changed since 2009. I still don’t have one of those mobile devices that let’s one do the Internet from wherever they want, but I’ve softened on the idea that I can’t fit my thoughts into small chunks. I’m totally going to start cutting my thoughts into bite-size chunks now forever.

You can totally see my first post directly under this one. Why is that? That is because Marq, my near-silent partner in this whole website endeavour, has set things up so anything I post on Twitter still ends up here, on the site where I obsessively collect everything I do! Hooray! Thanks, Marq!

So the moral of this story is, things barely change for people reading the site, but I’m also out on other sites. Kinda neat.

Okay, since it is about the only thing I’ve got to talk about, here is the latest in Manglefinger news:

Today was the day I had to go in and get my sutures taken out (the ones that come out anyway), and I showed up way early because I expected I’d have a long wait, but I didn’t! I got in and out quickly and am now sutureless (except the ones that are still there).

The primary victory of today, though, is the fact I have finally reached the stage where I am allowed to clean and dress the wound myself. At last I can wash my damn right hand, which I have not done properly for over a week. It has been irritating. The (still kinda nasty looking) wound is now covered only by adhesive strips and I can get in there whenever I want to clean it. So nice.

I have to go back into the hospital AGAIN in two weeks for one last checkup. I’m confident I will use that trip as well for another excuse for a post.

Haiku!

What is a walrus?
why won’t anyone tell me?
I am so confused.

(That haiku is, for the most part, unrelated to my injury.)

Do you think that vikings would have developed nuclear weapons if they hadn’t been wiped out by the coming of the white man? This is my history question of the day. I need thousand word essays to answer this.