Here are some things that are difficult to do with a broken arm:
Type at a reasonable speed
Sleep
sharpen a pencil
do up buttons
put on a necklace
wash your hair
unlock the computer
fend off zombie attacks from unsympathetic younger sisters
make your bed
hang out the washing
do the dishes
tie your shoelaces
rummage through your bag for something
prepare food / cook
open your wallet / purse
staple a bunch of papers together
give someone a hug
feed animals
hug animals
carry things
wahwahwah.
Mashed ants is the worst smell in the world. Worse still than wet dog, B.O., walking home past all the garbage bins night before garbage day, that smell in balmoral down near the river that lauren and i never figured out what it was, the grease trap in the valley near cash converters, the grates in berlin, the water in venice… eugh. the world is so dirty. tonight when rosie and i were walking home from the vet some car drove past and its exhaust smelled like the public toilets at southbank piazza after a xavier rudd concert (god if he didn’t shit the whole crowd to tears…)
anyway. i hate typing like this
Whatever.
Like you have even attempted washing up or making dinner
duh because i know i can’t, Oh Evil One. I’m not allowed to get the plaster wet, and besides i can’t use my left arm so i can’t chop anything up which is really annoying. I haven’t tried to make dinner also because I’m broke and I have no food to cook with anyway.
omfg, how cruel to have an evil lil sis like that rofl
finally someone else who understands that ants smell bad!