Yuck!

Egads!  Now, I'm not going to whine too much, nor am I going to give you the gruesome details that comes from being betrayed by a burrito supreme with more fight than a short-changed Tijuana prostitute.  However, I will tell you that I have exactly 328 tiles on the floor of my bathroom, and the instructions on the back of a box of dental floss can lead one into no end of existential meditations. 

Of course, I blame Mexico for this.  You brought your tasty culinary delights into this country and expected us to actually cook it in a way that wouldn't kill us.  Don't take it personally.  I also blame Guatemala for a brush with death involving a roasted-goat and some deep-fried yucca.  And, not to be anti-south-o-the-border, I also have some angst for China as a result of the time I almost bled to death while assembling a bike stand (For future reference China, I do not have the delicate fingers of a seamstress).  

Oh well... I s'pose it's time to go peruse the directions on the shampoo bottle before I send my resume to the United Nations.   

Ciao, 

DP