On the one hand, it's probably just an excuse to do what I want, but I would argue on the other that having a severe physical disability makes one a little weird. I've known too many of you, including myself, and I notice that we're a little off. It's an odd combination of desperately wanting affection and acceptance, while not giving a rat's behind about social mores, opinion, or other stuff. I was doing one of those things last night: eating a salad with my hands. I don't know if forks offend me, or what. But this is not an uncommon thing. It's Friday in Lent, so it was a McDonald's side salad with two large fries. Side-bar, Your Honors: Those fries should never be part of a penance. How good are they? Honestly. So, I'm chomping away, and I nearly make it to the end of my salad. I'm not looking at the salad; I'm talking to my good friend and stuffing my face. And then...a shard of bacon. By the time I noticed, it was over. And clearly, it
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