Band-Aided Boo Boo and Overdoses of Chocolate

You do this: for every bad scenario, most people think of a worser scenario and self-compromise by being satisfied that the latter situation did not happen. If you don't do this, try it. You'll might feel pathetic in fooling yourself into feeling better about something you can't change, a shitty situation no less, but in the end you're happy and that's all that really matters. Kind of. (Let's enjoy the ability to be ignorant and leave my statement at that.)


So what happened to SH for this to be the topic of the blog? A cut finger. The ring finger, to be exact. It also happens to be the worst finger to be damaged. Try this: grab an table-laying object while keeping a finger extended toward the air. 

• Piggy #1: Thumb - a bit difficult, this is what cats must feel like. But if poor Piggy Uno was hurt, he'd be far away from harm. 
• Piggy #2,3,5 - Forefinger, Middle finger, Pinky - they are quite the independent little pigs! Look at them! All extended and alone in their liberation! 
• Piggy #4- Ring Finger - Look at that poor bastard. It bends with the goddamn Pinky. If Pinky was Holmes, Piggy #4 would be Watson; dragged behind the self-involved detective while he walks around alone as much as he'd like. Consider this: the Ring Finger is bigger than the Pinky, and surely a Doctor has more prestige than a Detective (Sherlock and Watson being a special case, but I used them in this example because I wanted to). 

Yes, I know it's about tendon connectivity. It doesn't make me feel any better about having a cut finger. Why? Because there is no alternative happiness-generating worse case scenario! I realized this while I took a shower. I figured that there ought to be another finger that could be causing more trouble than this one, alas I did the finger-bending exercise. Conclusion: nope, this is the worse finger to have cut. Lovely. 

In other news, I recently discovered the mystery and enigmatic characteristics of Tim Tams. I didn't know what they were until a friend told me that we had to eat them! We have to make hot chocolate and have a Tim Tam Slam! It tastes like an orgy in your mouth! Dumbfounded, and trying not to look like a noob, I was (perhaps overly) excited. We go to their house, and we did it using chai tea. It really was an orgy in your mouth, not going to lie. But that's because I had one.


Today, I had four. And I feel really, really sick. Essentially, what happens is that the hot beverage you drink will be soaked up be the flaky cookie, and the heat of this drink will slightly melt the layer of chocolate in the center of the Tim Tam. (God, please just click on that link up there so I don't have to sound moronically stupid and lacking in detail.) If your beverage is hot enough, the entirety of the treat will feel like a chocolate fondue explosion. (If only orgies were as delightful as chocolate fondue explosions, right?) In any case, I feel sick.


So far, I've shared this orgy-hybrid-explosion-by-virtue-of-chocolate with two friends: JT and EF. Neither of them were in the sweet-tooth mood, so I'm disappointed that my newfound love of Tim Tams(minus my present wariness of them) wasn't shared. JT's older sister told me that she thought that they were only sold in Australia. I crinkled my eyebrows and questioned her knowledge of social events (she practically lives in a cave, excluding the fact that she's building a solar car in her engineering extracurriculars). "Well, I just bought them from Superstore... I guess they're not only sold in Australia anymore...?". 


As it turns out, having done some Googling with my aroused curiosity, Tim Tams are only sold for five months of the year in North America, from November to March. Why? I don't know... maybe the exclusivity of the product makes it more alluring to customers? The dynamics of marketing are not my forté.


Rant:
What is with all these photos posted on Facebook? Do people need to do a photographic documentary of their parties/hangouts/clubbing/dinners/EVERYTHING? Are they posted up to prove that these individuals have a life and that they actually have friends beyond Facebook? The vast, vast majority of these photos are not appealing - most of the photographees do not know that the photographer is being a flash-happy creep. And yet, tags are still intact, and inside jokes are abundant. See the following*:
Person A: "Oh my God, where are my shoes?!" HAHAHAHA, oh you!
Person B: Did I actually say that? Wow, we were so fucking drunk!
Person A: No kidding! Love youuuu! Got to do this again soon! 
Person C: This is so funny! Do you always get like this when you girls are out? Where was this at?


Here, you can see that Person C is the awkward one: outside the in-circle, does not go out with the in-circle and does not know the locations at which the in-circle do their in-circle-ie things at. In reality, everyone minus Person A and Person B are Person C. I'm Person C most of the time. And I rant about it here.
Case and point: camera innovation has made me, and I'm sure very many others, annoyed at something insignificant. Back in the day, photos had to be dropped off, developed and picked up, and batteries had to be physically replenished. Now, not so much. Memory cards allow us to have redundant amounts of those godforsaken "random pics" in their "random" albums. Rechargers allow batteries of another sort to allow the bloody camera to function. I wouldn't have anything to rant about if cameras were the old type, because people are way too freaking lazy to scan all their photographs, having dropped them off, developed them, and picked them up. This sequence of steps is too strenuous even for the most narcissistic of us... I'd hope.
I'm a hypocrite too - I take photos and I'm in the said tagged photos. HOWEVER, I do not condone them. 


I'll be sure to have more to be an ass about by the next post.


*The spelling and grammar of the conversation do not reflect what normally happens. It's me being proper in English.