One helluva weekend, one helluva day. By: Reverend   Nov 01-2005 First, the weekend. Animators are good people. I was sort of apprehensive about going to hang out with a group of folks I didn't really know, even though I already had a couple of friends among them. That kind of thing usually turns into your friends chatting with the people you don't know about stuff you've never heard of and ignoring you, and it turns awkward when you try to get into the conversation. I really want to stress this next line, so pay attention: last weekend wasn't like that, not even a little. These new people had a real knack for making me feel like I already belonged, and my friends' efforts went along way towards that. I appreciated it. I'll see you cats on Pirate Day, and I'll have shirts for all. Oh, the title of this update refers to all the walking and running I did on Saturday, activities to which I am unaccustomed. Now, onto my day today. I'm not usually one to complain, also I'm one of the least superstitious people you'll ever care to meet. A bad thing happens to me, I chaulk it up to no one gives a damn and nobody wants to hear about it and I don't worry about any voodoo dolls of me that might be lying around. However, I have experienced a series of unpleasant events so unlikely it can only be referred to as mystical. First, I cut myself with a vegetable peeler while peeling potatoes. Pretty ordinary, you're thinking? You need to understand something about this vegetable peeler. You know that pair of crayola safety scissors you used in pre-school, the ones that were made of bright red plastic? This vegetable peeler is it's cousin. The safest damned peeler human hands can craft from earthly materials, with curvy plastic guarding any edge that could possibly come in contact with your skin. Although it is barely capable of grazing potatoes, it still took a sizeable chunk out of my left ring finger. That was painful, but I was able to accept it without wondering whether I was the target of black magic. A few hours later, I cut my index finger on the same hand with ordinary, clear, scotch tape. That's ridiculous. I don't know how that is even possible, it happened so fast that I don't have a good grip on the mechanics of it. Not five minutes later, the same hand gets slammed in a door, then covered in black stuff that I can't even guess the origin of. Also, the band-aids I put on my fingers earlier start to change my skin green, a reaction far less gratifying than the one the Hulk experiences when he gets angry. That's about the time I realized I've been hexed, and perhaps cursed. Someone has put the wammy on me, and I hope it's only for Halloween. I was worried about going driving, lest I cut my hand on the radio dial and choke myself with the seat belt, so I stayed home. I did manage to cook one kick-ass supper, though.