The recent damage to my left knee, where I nearly executed a perfect triple Salchow after an ice storm left a sheet of frictionless death glass on my driveway, has reached the healing point where it is like a crack addict looking to suck a dick for a rock, "rock" in this case being me scratching the wound like a dog chewing at his stitches.
"Yo man, just scratch me a little, I'll suck yo diiiiiiiiiiiiiiiick," it screams at me (in what I might add is a completely racist voice). "Suck yo dick for some scratch, muthah-fucker, come on." While I tried not only to point out that scratching it would leave it susceptible to scarring, but also the physical impossibilities and impracticalities of my knee sucking my or anybody else's diiiiiiiiiiiiiiiick, I've begun scratching it. I figure it will be a while before anybody sees it again anyway, since I don't intend to get into another relationship soon, so I don't have to worry about anybody clutching their Jesus-pearls and flinging bottles of holy water at me.
Not much else going on right now. The snow is gone and is probably not coming back, so I'm just hovering again waiting on the inevitable.