"But ah'm not afraid of dyin'. Cause I know that when I get to heaven there are gonna be these wonderful trees, and ah'm gonna climb them. But you know what? Instead of leaves and flowers, those trees are gonna have fried eggs, and delicious Virginia ham, and big heaping bowls of biscuits and sausage gravy. And one day, Sammy, you're gonna meet me there, and we're gonna climb those breakfast trees together, and it's gonna be delicious and we're gonna be happy until the end of time."


Make Her Laugh At That

I've never been much of an achiever. I graduated smack in the middle of my class, I dropped out of college after my freshman year, and nine years later I'm still struggling through. Never been published, no special recognitions. My resume is a barren wasteland of "what the hell have I been doing all these years?"

I am, however, pretty good at amazing doctors. My chiropractor slapped my x-rays up on the lightbox today, and looked at me like, "how are you walking upright?"

Looking at the films? I could see why. I'm a mess. No part of my skeleton above my waist is where it should be.

He then presented me with the award for "worst. jaw. ever." Seriously.

I've seen x-rays of my chest and teeth before, but I don't think I've ever had the pleasure of seeing my own skull in its glorious entirety. It's scary. My head has eyes, and hair, and a nose, and skin, and is very much alive.
Up there on the lightbox though, I was dead. Just a skull with a highly dysfuntional jaw, held aloft by Hamlet.

Alas, poor Cara! I knew her, Horatio: a lady
of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy: she hath
borne me on her back a thousand times; and now, how
abhorred in my imagination it is!

When I was a kid I had a dream I was standing in front of a mirror and I grew old and my skin slowly split and fell off until I was just a skeleton standing there, gaping. Scared the crap out of me. Seeing the x-ray today brought a little of that feeling back.

I really need to accomplish something.