Hump Day Happy–Whimper Edition

It’s not fun when you snip the end of your finger with your scissors. And I wasn’t even running with them!

In honor of Veterans Day, all you have to do is comment with a page number between 1 and 611, and another number between 1 and 25, and my fingers will march through the pages of one of these books to find you some happiness.

Well, except for that ONE finger.


Thank you to all those who’ve served.

35 thoughts on “Hump Day Happy–Whimper Edition”

  1. Gee, I was just looking at my old Honorable Discharge certificate dated March 1969, which was eons before Don’t Ask Don’t Tell. Now that in itself was something to be happy about, but I’m sure page 69 item 3 will make me even happier.

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    2. Happy Veterans Day to you! For your day, you get “being tickled pink.”

      (Hmmm, considering Lisa’s answer, below, pink seems to be today’s theme color. Barbie will be so pleased.)

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    1. I sewed it back on myself! Without anesthetic! While all the dolls looked on with their blank eyes! It was like a horror movie!

      Oh, wait. None of that happened. I washed the nick, put toilet paper on it to apply pressure until the bleeding stopped, then came and relayed my tale of woe on LJ before I went to bed. No drama.

      Today, Dash gets “the glow of streetlight scattered,” and you get “white-tailed deer in the clearings.”

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    1. Thank you, Chris. It’s got that little bit of soreness that makes me aware I’m avoiding using the fingertip when I type. Interesting how it’s built into our natures to try to accommodate/adjust to dodge pain–though this isn’t really a lot of pain, just annoying.

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    1. I know. I’m a giver! (At least eight people who read my LJ would have a quote to go along with this, but I doubt they read all the comments.)

      You can certainly have “men’s woven handkerchiefs.” (Maybe you can work that into your next bus story!)

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    1. I’ll use safety scissors, but that would mean no more sewing. When I see you, I’ll explain how this was Rosie O’Donnell’s fault. Heh.

      From the book, you get “slapping the bottom of a ketchup bottle with too much intensity.”

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    1. No photo; you would be so underwhelmed by the tiny wound. Unless I can give y’all big gashes with lots of blood and maybe even stitches, it’s just not worth it. Fortunately, I clot fast, but that sort of negates much drama. Also, everyone was in bed, so I couldn’t even run around The Compound and get sympathy. That’s why I had to mention it in my post–to get some “poor Beckying.” 😉

      And from the book, you get “being in the pink.”

      Reply

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