The fact that I'm agnostic means I think everyone else is stupid for believing in God.
You might want to amend this statement, or some of your biggest fans are going to stab you in the head with a fondue fork.
We had our end of season party yesterday for the Triple A team. Our manager Elliott hosted it at his house. Now, I knew Elliot was a high-powered and driven attorney but I did not quite grasp how
successful
Elliot was at his job until we got to his house.
It's way up in the Berkeley hills where the higher you go, the more expensive it is, and the more spectacular the view (you're looking directly down onto the Bay and SF and the GG Bridge). He's on the last street before Tilden Park. (As high as you can go.) It's well - not a mansion - but a many many million dollar place. I mean, JZ's Dad (who owns his own succesful business) has a very very nice house in the Oakland Hills, but it's not a patch on this.
It had one of those Architectural Digest interiors with the big curving staircase, the wall-sized plasma TV screen, hot tub in the sculpted rock garden with the waterfall. Like that. There were a fair amount of dropped jaws among the parents.
Kids had fun. Had to drag Emmett out of there by the heels.
You might want to amend this statement, or some of your biggest fans are going to stab you in the head with a fondue fork.
I don't understand what I'm supposed to amend.
Maybe Hec doesn't realize you're paraphrasing your mother?
Hec, I got the idea that P-C was stating his family's opinion on his agnosticism, not his own take on his agnosticism.
I dreamed I danced with Jack Nicholson. He was taller than I expected.
I dreamed that I had a baby. I mean, I dreamed about giving birth. And then I had no fucking clue what I was supposed to do with a baby. I mean, a BABY. Mine. I was terrified.
And all day I haven't been able to shake that feeling.
[Please to note: there is zero chance that I could be pregnant -- trust me on this -- so it wasn't a prophetic dream.]
I think I may have a piece of glass stuck in my boob. I broke this hanging vase by stupidly pouring glass beads into it, and it all came falling out on top of me and all over the floor. I thought I got it all cleaned up, but just realized that something was irritating my boob. Went and looked. It's very red, but I don't actually see any glass or cut or anything.
I dreamed I danced with Jack Nicholson. He was taller than I expected.
now that's what you should be telling your family.
I think I may have a piece of glass stuck in my boob.
Oh
dear.
That doesn't sound like fun, love. I've had bits of glass stuck in less stressful places (ankle, thigh, bum etc - yes, there was a story involving me in my nightclothes and a metric shitload of broken glass falling on me) and they eventually worked their way out without any terrible Death-by-glass, or anything.
Not sure whether to suggest you leave it there and let it work its way out, or to suggest going to the doctor. Hmm.
Call the doctor and ask. Probably she will tell you that you don't need to come in now, ,but give you signs to watch for and have you come in if they occur or if the redness does not go away quickly or if you are really sufffering. But you have a bunch of other stuff going on with your body - which is why I would call a doctor and ask.
