I’m a medical marvel! Probably.

I haven’t asked Matthew if he thinks this is a possibility or even a probability because I think he would agree so wholeheartedly that I would probably get my feelings hurt a little bit. Well, maybe a lot. Then I’d be walking around all Charlie Brown-like for a few days, and it’s hard to be super productive when you’re Charlie Browning it. I mean you’re head’s all droopy. You’re probably running into things, so you’ve got bumps all over your head and elsewhere. But, hear this. I would totally kick the SHIT out of that football though. Lucy, you’ve been warned. I would feint, and then I would….whatever the next word is after feint. Wait. Isn’t feint what you do in boxing? I would juke, and then I would…wait. Juke? Is that the right word? I would perform evasive maneuvers? No. That’s a ridiculous way to say it. I’d just fake her out. And then I’d kick that stupid football. And it would happen all slo-mo like and I’d be saying “You suck, Lucy!” all slo-mo like. Which would be super embarrassing for her. And it would be up on the Jumbotron. And they wouldn’t be able to have any proposals or kiss-cams that night because they’d have to keep playing my Lucy diss because it would be so sweet. And……… Yep, it happened again. I got sidetracked.

Oh YEAH, this was what I wanted to talk about! I’m a medical marvel because of that twinnie all lounging back in my brain. I hope she (he?) isn’t squeamish because have you seen that brain matter? EWWWW. OK. I haven’t ACTUALLY seen brain matter either. I’m not like a legit CSI person, or like a person who’s walking around and happens across some body that’s been recently attacked by the zombies, but they left some brain matter behind because they aren’t very meticulous, and so this person sees some brain matter and now knows how very grotesque that brain matter can be, and now is trying to control the gag reflex because NASTY, and how in the world can those undead eat that crap??? I mean, seriously. Go on a diet if you have to until you can find another source of sustenance because it is criminal to expect someone to have to subsist on a diet of that substance.

Yikes! This is the most segueish post I’ve ever written. Have I even gotten to the point yet? Also, shut it, dictionary. Segueish is kind of a word, and since none of my segues are smooth, I think my taking liberties with the word is probably appropriate. And it’s my word of the day. So, deal with it. Anyway. The twin in my brain. That’s what I was talking about it. Did you hear that doctors found a twin lodged in some woman’s brain? Amazing, right? I’m 98% positive that I have a buddy hanging in my brain as well. Wouldn’t that explain so much? And I think that twin is bossy as hell. She writes the vast majority of my blogs and refuses to accept a single edit that I propose. She might be a he. I haven’t been introduced formally, so there’s been no chance to suss out gender. But, I am pretty stoked to find out that my serious weirdness comes from the twinnie, and the rest of me is perfectly normal. So far, she’s (he’s?) left me to my own devices in my business life which is an immense relief as this type of writing is completely unwelcome in the business world. I shudder to imagine a technical document written like this. I really hope she stays far away from my business writing or else things are going to get very weird very fast.

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