another day, another dollar from my child labor camp over in cambodia. this year we’re ranked number nine in revenue in national sweatshops monthly, which ain’t too shabby. and only eight kids have died so far this year. that’s muuuch better than last year.

the other night i was having a horrific nightmare of ronald mcdonald dieing of a heart-attack. in the midst of the terror, i was thrown off my perch on my bed, and landed on the floor, where i was rendered unconcious for several hours. the exact time i’m unsure of because my alarm clock was lodged into my spleen upon impact.

so, unable to move do to a pelvic displacement from the immense fall ( i do have bunk beds after all), i was unable to make it to the phone to call an emergency medical team to whisk me away in a blaze of glory…or a cloud of shame, depending on the reader.

that’s when those nostalgic commercials for emergency response buttons you wear around your neck came into play, promising that when you fall and can’t get up, a pretty blonde representative will immediately send over help, because they have nothing better to do than help kill off the older population.

ohhh, what i would have given for one of those magical buttons. as i layed there in the dark, the concussion and open wounds from the broken glass i swept into a pile earlier that day took made me look at those silly commercials, and laugh. i laughed.

and so sprawled upon the floor, i laughed until morn.

the moral of this story you ask? buy a car, and hug a tree. shit will even out.