We unveiled THE KNEE this morning, in all it’s operated-on glory, and it’s quite a site. Thought I would share it.

FYI, THE KNEE belongs to Chatter Child, and not an oompah loompah. The lovely orange color is courtesy of Betadine. Or whatever the heck that orange stuff is called.

There have been a few comments on other threads–OLD threads–from someone who writes as both Sarah and Lilian. The generic email addys are different, the IP the same. Sarah/Lilian COMBED the archives to find a typo I made. And wow, she did find one. I’ve fixed it now. Congrats, psycho. I’m glad I mean that much to you. Keep reading. And get some medical help.

Nope. NOT Popcorn popping on the Apricot tree. F*%$#ng snow…. Gotta love spring in Utah.

For those of you not raised in the LDS Church, you may not recognize this reference. We grew up singing this song, which, it turns out, was written by the mother of a man I worked with for years. I remember him telling me his mother wrote the venerable tune, and I was damned impressed. Even in my youthful apostacy.

The song goes like this:

I looked out the window and what did I see?
Popcorn popping on the apricot tree!
Spring has brought me such a nice surprise
Blossoms popping right before my eyes
I could take an armful and make a treat
A popcorn ball that would be so sweet
It wasn’t really so, but it seemed to be
Popcorn popping on the apricot tree!

You can listen to it here on Rhapsody! You know you want to…..

Stupid snow.

Tomorrow, Chatter Child will have her torn ACL replaced with a piece of her hamstring. Can you say, ewwwwwwww? We can, but it’s better than an ACL from a cadaver, at least in her mind.

Although the material we read MENTIONS the whole cadaver business, I’m guessing it’s pretty rare, because the doctor didn’t even mention the possibility or offer it up to us as an alternative to borrowing a part from her own leg. Someone pointed out to me that it’s not really a CADAVER, but rather an organ donor. Yeah, an organ donor who no longer NEEDS the ACL, which means they are DEAD. Just saying, is all.

The child in question is milking the situation for all it’s worth, although I understand that severing your ACL, when you are just 15 years old, is rather traumatic.

Me? Nervous wreck is an understatement. Bear with me as we work our way through recovery.

So, I’m sorta working for “THE MAN,” as my good friend TB puts it. And last night, THE MAN got a message from the little people, entitled I HATE YOUR FUCKING GUTS. Yeah, that kinda message. So, it resulted in a lockdown, and some downtime while we waited to be cleared to continue on doing meaningless work, so that more people can hate us. Just cuz.

And during that time, it occurred to me that THE MAN is not very manly at all. In fact, THE MAN needs him some serious testosterone. And then THE REAL MAN walked in. This guy was hot. Romance novel hot. There was NOTHING about this guy that was NOT HOT. I’ve had a serious shortage of hot, even with copious amounts of alcohol (only for short periods people. Don’t freak) so the hot was long warranted. And well needed. And well, HOT.

He had a gun. And handcuffs. A buff bod, and a handsome face, and MAN HANDS. Man hands, people. No whimpy girly hands.

I’m writing me some romance novels tonights. God bless the blue collar world….