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est. 02.27.02

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January 2007

My nails give new meaning to the phrase, "Tough as nails."
The more oranger the orange the sweeter the orange. | Wednesday, 01.17.07
I finally put a stop to my lifelong nail-biting habit. I didn't make a conscious decision or make a New Year's resolution or anything. I just ran out of band-aids and Neosporin one day and decided that tearing into my fingers with the ferocity of a zombified schnauzer is gross, and suddenly my bloody finger stumps were bathed in a white light. They donned choir robes and sang to the heavens. They formed a church, they formed a steeple, I opened it up and saw all the people. That shit was crazy... where did they get tiny, finger-sized robes, anyway? Now they keep trying to convert me to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Digits, but I just turn off all the lights when they come to the door. Fucking holier than thou fingers.

"That's great, John, but please, tell us more, and also, try to add a few more commas to this sentence, because, while I, your loyal audience member, find your sentences easy to understand, hilariously written, and full of piss, vinegar, and other things, others, including the young, the elderly, and maybe even a few in between, may find your sentences difficult to follow without the proper use of commas, semi-colons, and maybe even the elusive semi-comma, which was only used once, thousands of years ago, before the birth of Jesus Christ, PhD."

This man either had a gross fingernail or the most dangerous shapeshifting multiplying dick on the planet.
OK. Much like smoking, shooting heroin, or picking your noise and putting boogers up your butt, nail biting is addictive because you get immediate results. I'd look down at my fingers and see jagged imperfections just begging to be solved with only my teeth. Sure, my nails always looked like shit, but I tried to keep the shit as uniform as possible, so I'd bite and tear and bleed and cry and have the added bonus of silencing the voices in my head telling me to bite and tear and bleed and cry and drink household cleansers. Growing up, I think I was a nervous kid, too, so that didn't help. "Why yes, Ms. Teacher, I'd love to watch the class while you leave the room to use the ladies' room, thank you so much for this prestigious honor. I'll be sure to rat out my fellow classmates when you return!" CHOMP CHOMP CHOMP "Let's all settle down, guys... school is fun but we mustn't cause a commotion whilst Teacher uses the restroom!" CHOMP TEAR CHOMP TEAR "God I can't wait for grunge music to be invented."

But now I feel like a new man. I have super powers! Honest to god super powers that do nothing for mankind but make me a better person. For instance, I can now peel an orange with my bare hands. Before, my pathetic fingers would just miserably poke at the orange skin like a bunch of idiots, so I'd have to either hand the orange to an adult so they could "get it started" for me or just eat it like an apple. Have you ever tried eating an orange like an apple? It's about as fun as eating your fist after you dipped it in Goo-Gone. But now I'm peeling oranges and kicking ass but I'm not taking names because I'm terrible with names and I'm just going to forget it after I'm done kicking your ass.

More super powers? You betcha! CD, DVD or video game cases wrapped in plastic? Go fuck yourselves! Tremble before the mighty power of my sharpened claws! There's nothing worse than buying that new copy of NOW THAT'S WHAT I CALL LISTENING TO THE RADIO volume 57 and hitting the plastic wrap speed bump. I'm a busy man, and I want to hear Gwen Stefani make a complete ass of herself, not wage a holy war against cellophane for three hours. Wow, is this what I'm reduced to? Writing a blog entry about the annoyances of plastic wrap? Hey, what is the deal with those airline peanuts I mean seriously folks can you explain it to me because I just don't get it a-hyuck hyuck.

There are some minor drawbacks to having advanced salon nails. For instance, now I'm finding all sorts of shit under them, which, on the plus side makes me less likely to bite them, but more likely to lock myself in the bathroom for an entire weekend armed with a bottle of AJAX, sharp metal instruments and a lifetime supply of sandpaper to battle my nail mites. You let that shit go too long and all of a sudden you've got baby spiders hatching from the tips of your fingers. So... there's that. Also, have you ever heard the phrase, "He who sleeps with an itchy asshole wakes up with smelly fingers"? Replace "smelly fingers" with "a thousand tiny cuts in and around his anus" ... "and also smelly fingers."



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