For a few weeks now my instant messenger tagline has been, “I’d give my right arm to be ambidextrous.” Lately I have been shocked at just how pathetically stupid my left hand is. If all my body parts were chillin’ in a schoolyard, my left hand would be the dork loser that always got picked last. I mean, seriously. It cannot do a damn thing. You ever bend over a sink and make a cup out of your hand to drink a little water? Yeah. I can’t do that with my left hand. I can’t put keys in a doorknob with it either. It’s really, really stupid. I am amazed that I can type so well. It’s the only thing this blasted hand can do. It used to smoke cigarettes, the rat. I do remember that I was a left-handed smoker. Figures. It had no problem helping me kill myself. I’ve wanted so desperately to play guitar since I was a wee little Gagne, and I blame this left hand of mine.
</rant>
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Weird. When I was a kid I wrote my first name on the blackboard with my left hand, and my last name with my right hand, at the same time. I eat lefty, throw righty. I write lefty, bat righty. I can’t switch hit and I can’t throw lefty. Using a fork iwith my right hand is pointless.
Oh, and I’m left-eared. Yep, I don’t switch ears when I talk on the phone.
The sinister hand. I once had one of those, but I caught the thing slapping the backside of older, larger women. So I cut it off. That’s right. I don’t even need to be pinned by a rock for 4 days to saw my hand off. All it takes is the one sin, and BAM! The downside is that it took me 3 hours to type all this with a straw.
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