Yup, I did.

When I was about three or so, we lived in an apartment on Broadway, in the South Bronx. A nice section of the Bronx called Riverdale. Well, apparently one Christmas, I got this fire truck. This was 1970 or so, so toys were still big and made of actual metal, not formed plastic.

I was a rambunctious kid, and did a lot of rambunctious kid stuff, like running around and going crazy because it was, you know, Christmas. Well, anyway, this fire truck, which was cool, but made of metal, had a jagged part. And I fell down on it, and sliced my ear open pretty good. Wound up in Emergency. Needed stitches. A plastic surgeon had to look at the ear. That was fun. I think maybe I woke up on the table, too, and probably gave the doctor and my dad a fright.

By way of contrast, tonight I watched Night of the Iguana, which I taped off TCM, had a coffee with some accoutrements added in for flavoring and festivus, and changed my blog template.

On the whole, I gotta say I prefer this Christmas to the bullshit with the fucking truck.

Happy Christmas to everybody. Be gentle to each other.

And don't bitch out the template. I was bored, yo.