Tuesday, September 6, 2011


Who the hell needs a marriage certificate when you've got matching arm scars? This is what my surgery scar looks like nearly seven weeks later. I went back to the doctor last week and he said to come back in a couple more weeks and he may release me to go back to work then. For once in my life, I kept my big, fat yap shut and didn't argue. John's scar is more than twenty years old and is the result of drug-abuse and a pair of sewing scissors. The story behind his is a lot more interesting and tell-worthy than mine.

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