…Ya Know What Really Chaps My Ass?

The wind and weather on my skin when it’s continuously below 10 degrees outside.

And actually it’s not my ass at all, I just adore the flowery sense of feminine fragility evoked by that expression.  But seriously, my hands look like a couple “wing slices” of dry-ass, roasted, Thanksgiving  turkey made by Aunt Bethany- a once smart, attractive, young woman who is now senile as shit & riding the razor edge of blind & deaf- who forgot she had that 6 pound beast in the oven overnight, cooked the holy shit out of it, & brought it to Thanksgiving anyway because she doesn’t know any better anymore.

This thing's beggin' for mercy.

This thing’s beggin’ for mercy.  Much like my hands.

And do treat yourself to the knowledge that they’re rougher to the touch than they are on the eyes.  Sending “shit-outs” to winter …& Aunt Bethany.

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