Gary Dourdan Can Fingerprint Me Anytime He Wants.

I'm slightly concerned because, while my burned finger appears to have healed, my sense of touch with that finger is greatly diminished. Whenever I touch something it feels like I'm doing it through a latex glove. Or when you were little, did you ever spread Elmer's glue on your finger and let it dry, then peel it off to look at your fingerprints? It kind of feels like there's a layer of glue on it. And while spreading glue on my finger and forgetting about it is something I might be likely to do, I did check, and alas, there is no glue.

Speaking of fingerprints, along with the lack of sensation my whorls and ridges are damn near gone! The main pad of my fingertip is almost entirely smooth. Which means, of course, if I could commit a crime with that finger only, I would never get caught. Not even by Gil Grissom and the entire CSI team.

On a different, completely unrelated topic, because who doesn't love a meandering post, I won $100 playing poker this weekend. How? That's just the way I roll, boo-yah. I won one game of Hold 'Em and one game of you-call-it. All though somehow I only ended up with $85, so someone didn't pay up and if I don't get my money I will kill you with my right middle finger and never get caught.

Ahem.

During you-call-it, Scott was trolling the internet looking for new variations of poker we could try, which is always the smart thing to do when it's two in the morning and you've been drinking since eight and you have money in the game. Try something you've never played before! Always fun! So we played Baseball (seven-card stud with 9s and 3s wild, and if you get a 4 face up then you get an extra card face down) and Queer poker (no straights and queens are wild). There's also Harem, where jacks and king are wild and three queens automatically wins. Because then you have a harem, get it? Clever bitchs. Other games that were brought up were Kenosha Cheese Porn, Grocery Shopping, The Price is Right, Dirty Shultz, Monkey Love*, and, I kid you not, Dog Butt. Someone has far too much time on their hands. But who am I to judge, I was playing them, right? There can't be anything better than a group of drunk dumbasses yelling "Cheese Porn" at random intervals throughout the night.



* No apparent relation to the new Tom Cavanagh series "Love Monkey," which I am looking forward to because "Ed" rocked my world, and no, I was not paid for that endorsement, though I would welcome a check from CBS at any time.