Cut and pasted

That was my hand that was, 2 weeks ago today. Now, I am a fully qualified concert pianist and a hit with the chicks due to cool scarring and the fact that my bruises are exactly this seasons colours, darling.

Really thirsty and constipated at the moment, worried that I'll start sweating plasticene if my dumpological rhythm doesn't get back to normal. I haven't had a good curry sweat for a while, like balti fingers for the committed professional. When you wake up and have stained the sheets with a shashlik(?), you know you're an addict. Like giving your child a middle name like Aloo or Ghee.

I recently developed a theory that Native Americans would use hounds as a substitute for a decent turkey feather headpiece, or if they were concious of a bald spot. I came to this conclusion
after checking Reservation records of such warrior
braves as Centre Parted Terrier, Smells Like Wet
Dog and Your Hairpiece Just Barked.