THOSE WHO SUFFER LOVE
Today I read a story about the Patron Saint of Idiot Savants.
He threw fruit at people (while standing atop a roof, of course) or sometimes just tossed them into a pool of murky water to heal them.
So, next time anyone asks, that's now my patron saint.
God knows I can relate well enough.
Can someone please explain to me how in a place so full of people, everyone manages to look exactly the same?
Oh the many, many joys of Orange County.
That's what happend when I have to go to my mom's work.
Ah, entropy.