If you haven’t heard, The Chariot is performing their farewell tour. Undoubtedly, this has caused distress to their many heavy metal lovin’ fans, including my husband and my brother, Joey.
Last night, Brian hit the road with a couple of buddies and got to see them one last time. I’ll have to tell you how it went once I wake up and ask him. Presently, it’s 9:14PM on Friday night and I don’t expect to see my hubby for several more hours.
The house is silent, except for the sound of the washing machine and my clickity-clacking on the laptop. I’ve turned my arms over in this dim lighting, checking to see if my “Chariot burn” has still left its mark.
Oh, you remember that time…
(Story here… But make sure you scroll down and read the following post so that Brian can save face.)
Yep. Still there. Who needs a band T-shirt when you’ve got a two year old burn to cherish instead? Especially one that makes you look like you’ve been slapped by an octopus!
Scars have never really bothered me much though… I suppose perhaps because there presently aren’t any on my face. There’s the scar on my torso from scratching at chicken pox as a little girl, one on my chest from a mole removal (looks like a cigarette burn now), and several on my hands from my work shears. We keep a steady supply of bandaids in the back room for that very reason. I don’t know a single stylist who hasn’t regretted one or two nearly fatal snips.
Do you have any scars?
Oh, that reminds me!
I’ve seen this pic floating around Pinterest and it cracks me up every time.
LOL! So true! Those popsicle packages are the devil!
Have a great weekend!