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11-05-01 - 6:38 a.m. I tell the world that I sliced up my hand, and the world emails me. 14 new messages in my inbox. I'm not being ungrateful. I'm just stating a fact. I'll reply to them some time tonight or tomorrow. It's going to be a busy week for the Hoebag. I did end up letting Bryan take me to the hospital last night to get stitches. That is such a hideous process. My palm looks like it has one of those outrageous fake-scab things from a Halloween superstore on it. Too bad I can't actually pull it off. People have asked me, "What happened yesterday?" Does anything ever really have to happen? Is there, as a rule, a "final straw" for me? I don't think so. Or if there is, I'm not keeping track of them. I feel okay. The calm after the storm. I have to go to work. Suddenly I feel like shit. Carrying trays and taking orders and refilling drinks. Thank god I'm left-handed.
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