Interesting Facts about my Body

I went golfing today. An enjoyable sunny afternoon punctuated by brief bouts of humiliation caused by this hilarious new quirk that my body seems to have developed without my knowledge. You may ask how this could have happened without my knowing? Me, whose total control over my primary functions is paramount and key to my continued existence? Me, whose body serves but one master, yet is occassionally usurped by the forces of KFC and my own rebellious innards?! Yet, though I may try, this is the one predicament, amongst the countless many I may lay at its feet, that cannot be blamed on KFC (Ooh...I hate you KFC. So much. No wait. Don't go. I love you. Come back. We can watch Ghost together.) . As a brief aside, who decided that they should run KFC ads after KFC closes? Don't they know how good chicken looks on TV? Hell, I start salivating watching animated characters eat. There is a special place in hell for whoever dreamed up that idea.

Continuing on... During the apex of each swing, my wrist would come out of socket. Uncomfortable and debilitating, yes; more importantly, it played major hell with my backswing. So...For all those who witnessed my limp wristed play, let me start by saying that I'm all man despite what you might have heard otherwise, and that next time I'll bring a wrist with an undislocatable stomach (Har!).

Kind of on the same note but not really: What the heck happened to Gordon Lightfoot? It's called Live 8... Not...um...something about how old he looked and was boring 8 (Same goes for you too, Neil Young. Don't think I didn't see that either!) Looks like we need untwistable stomachs and brains all around! Northern Lights Forever, Bitches! Ooh...snap! Ow. Freaking wrist...