When I was a young strapping youth, I had my ear lobe severed during a freak snowboarding accident. Graphic images do exist if you feel so inclined, however, I'll keep them from being displayed directly in this post due to Shiloh's intolerance for all things blood/guts/inner-ear-lobe related. So out of the blue, the dude who effectively Van-Gogh'd me finds my email address (what the futon) and emails me to tell me "Hey I'm the dude who cut off your ear" (what the futon) and then to ask what I was up to.
Well, let me tell you what I'm up to. I've spent the past 18 years trying track down your pathetic little arse so I could serve it up all futon style. Think you can cut off my ear lobe, then effectively come back into my life, as if nothing ever even happened? Who do you take me for? One of your other loser ear lobe lacking friends? Oh, contraire good buddy, homey don't play dat.
But seriously, on a side note, if you happen to have a Horsey Henry on you, all is forgiven, it's the last one I need to complete my collection.