Monday, January 12, 2009

Juxtaposer

Fine. I've finished lamenting about how horrifically tragic life is for the recently returned.  In actuality, I have very little, if anything to gripe about.  Except ice skating. WTC.  Why am I supposed to enjoy blades strapped to the bottom of my feet?  As if we didn't have enough to worry about with the economy, carcinogens, and obesity, let's trade shoes for deadly weapons and run around on a slippery surface.  How is holding hands supposed to help?  So instead of one fatality there's two?  I'll never let go Jack.  Unless you eat it.  Then I'm headed for the hot chocolate, probably chuckling all the way.  But really, who is good at ice skating?  And why?    

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