A cautionary tale

I love penpals. This is only one of many reasons why I'm addicted to Friendster. The other is that I love it when people e-mail me pictures of their dicks. (Perverts of the world: Before you hit "send", please realize that I WAS KIDDING.)



Anyway, one of my penpals asked me recently to send him a cautionary tale. I sent him the following story. It's kind of a bullshit way to do an entry, but I hate to leave any material unmilked:



A few years ago, I slimmed down a bit. Okay, a lot: I lost 30 pounds. The first time I went out drinking after said weight loss, I forgot to factor in my new weight when ordering my beverages. Three martinis later, I stood up from my barstool and promptly fell over, cracking my eyeglasses and cutting my eyebrow so badly that I needed four stitches to close it.



That's not the cautionary tale. This is: if you crack your eyeglasses and cut open your eyebrow while drinking, do not, I repeat DO NOT, go to the hospital where your mother works to be stitched up. Your mother's friends will tease you about your miniskirt and obvious drinking problem and then they will stitch your eyebrow up with bright blue thread, which will attract comment and honeybees in equal measure for the next week or so.



Finis.



Jen