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2002-08-23 12:59 p.m.

Here�s a story which just about encapsulates my life: I was in my bosses office reading something on her desk. I tend to fiddle with things, as anyone who knows me would attest to. I pick things up, touch things, play with them (okay people, get your minds out of the gutter now!). My mom once said, �You�re just like a three-year-old, you have to play with everything until it breaks.� This would have been a fine comment if I were, you know, three. But, as it were, this was just this past Christmas. Anyway, back to the story. I was reading and absent-mindedly playing with something on my bosses desk. It had moving parts, so I was fiddling with those while I read. I must have realized that this thing (which I hadn�t even looked at yet, so I didn�t even know what I was doing) could close right up if you press it hard enough. Well I did, but my finger was between the moving part and non-moving part� That would have been bad enough, slamming my finger between two pieces of metal, but this item in my hand happened to be a stapler. Okay, can you see what happened? Oh yeah, that�s right, I stapled my finger. It got nicely lodged in there. Real good. I�m so clever. Who, at the age of 25, staples their finger? Truth be told, I have stapled my finger before, but at that time I really was three, so it was a little more excusable.




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