I have major Foot-In-Mouth Disease.
I told some people in my grad class that I have a blog. Then one of them (you know who you are, kid)
commented on a comment I made in this blog the other day about one of the other
people in my class who comments on my papers and whose comments are not
helpful. Nor nice. In fact, they're rather helpless. And nasty. Helplessly nasty. Nastily helpless. Okay, I can play with words all I want, but I
insulted the guy.
Ooops. Shit. Damn.
Hope he didn't catch that fact that I am blogging nor the title of this
blog. Crap. Doodoo. Poop.
Folks, I could be talking about the damn Queen of England
and the bitch would tap me on the shoulder. I could be commenting on generalissimo Francisco
Franco, and he would rise from the dead just to fuck with my head. (Hey, that rhymes.)
It's so bad that I've ordered t-shirts for everyone for
Christmas: "Prevent Foot-In-Mouth Disease:
Tell a blabbermouth to shut up!"
You're all getting one.
You're welcome!
Feliz Navidad.
