Holy Moley!

Sometimes I really do want to post, but there's nothing to say. I asked Neil for a topic, and he suggested:

1) His quills (spiky shoulder hairs).
2) Yesterday's Washington, D.C., gun ban law that was reversed by the Supreme Court. (The best sign held by a supporter, which was in the main photo on the Nation/World News page I designed at work yesterday: "If guns kill people ... do pens misspell words?")
3) Obama. Or maybe that was my idea.

None of these is really something upon which I care to elaborate here. I do like plucking and Obama; not so sure about the whole gun thing.

I need to teach Neil how to whistle, and he needs to do a backflip for me. These were things we promised would transpire during the honeymoon, and they never did! Neil is also bitter that I didn't remove his moles, which was also something I promised him I would do, which is the only thing I've totally went against my word on with him.

He always reminds me that a CERTAIN family member of his has moles, and this family member's devoted wife removes them via the following method:

- Locate mole
- Tie dental floss tightly around base of mole
- Allow mole to die a slow, horrible, constricted death whereon it shrivels up and eventually falls off -- basically killing the mole.

That's sick, if you ask me. I promised I would do it, but I think I said that just so he wouldn't do it himself. The truth is, I like his moles. They're cute and not at all nasty or unsightly. He had one surgically removed from his neck shortly after I met him. Then he killed one of his moles in the above-mentioned way shortly before we got married. Sick. He wants me to get a couple hard-to-reach ones on his back. I think it's really gross and sad to kill them. He says I lied. I say it was to protect the moles. I'm just afraid he's going to cut them off himself. Is it an urban legend that you can't stop the bleeding from a mole?