A Dissipated Mind

Knitting, spinning, sewing, weaving, and ranting my way through the French farce crossed with a Greek tragedy that is my world.

Beer is living proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy.
-- Benjamin Franklin, statesman/inventor

Saturday, October 15, 2005

Ewww!

For those of you with a weak stomach, run now...

Harold popped. Well, more like exploded. It's gross. I figured he'd blow sooner or latter, he never did stop getting bigger and more deformed looking.

So, now what do I do? My medical expertise sort of falls apart at this point. And my mom isn't at home. How sad is that? I'm nearly 30, and I still call my mommy when I get a boo-boo.

1 Comments:

Jenn said...

Harold!!! Nooooooooooo. . .

Poor Harold.


Neosporin, Band-aid. Don't get his corpse wet.

*sniffle* Poor Harold. He was so young.

4:15 PM  

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