I am Awesome and Possibly Holy (also, holey)

This is what happens when I try to cook.


See, we had this potluck thing for the faculty yesterday, and I did not have five dollars to hand over to the Committee on Eating, or whatever, and so I was forced, at 10:30pm Sunday night, to be walking all over the Kroger, looking for Velveeta, which was NOT with all the other cheeses. And then I further had to go home and MAKE the Ro*tel, which is not hard, but it can cause injuries to people who are klutzes and also have no cooking skillz.

So I punctured my hand with a very sharp knife. I did not, however, puncture the Velveeta with said knife, as that mess was hard as a brick (and looked like one too) and no knife would be conquering it, thank you.

AND it hit right on my head-line, which probably means that I am fixing to turn stupid. If I start writing about Hogan Knows Best or Laguna Beach, you'll know why it happened.

If I were a morally shady type, I might try to use this wound to my advantage:

I KNOW I was late to school, but I have ... THE STIGMATA.

No, I have not entered my grades yet, because I have ... THE STIGMATA.

Oh yes I will have another helping of mashed potatoes; I have ... THE STIGMATA.

Officer, I know I was speeding, but I have ... THE STIGMATA.

When I think of the possibilities ... erm, I mean, that would be wrong.

To be honest, I did try this little exercise already, with the cat.

"Lulu," I said, "Quit hogging this electric blanket and scoot your butt over! Can't you see I have ... THE STIGMATA?"

I could tell she was impressed by the way she yawned in my face and then stretched to her full length so as to force me even further toward the edge of the bed. And my bleeding palm did NOT get me any extra inches of the electric blanket either.

To be fair, though, she was raised Protestant. I mean, I was too, but if THE STIGMATA keeps me from getting another a ticket, I might think about converting.

On the other hand (ha! see what I did there?), maybe the head-line puncturing is already taking effect, and these are just the drooly ramblings of someone who is fixing to watch some bad reality television.