For those of you expecting one of my typical movie reviews, I apologize in advance.
I ended up getting a splinter in my finger on the way into the theater and spent the entire movie trying to get it out. I used my teeth, my key chain and my friend’s teeth. Nothing worked and there was blood everywhere.
If I was smart and knew a lot about medicine, I would have called 911, but I didn’t. I wasn’t thinking. The pain was too excruciating.
All I know is that when I saw George Clooney on the screen I wished I was him. Not because he is rich, eats healthy, dates beautiful women or has good hygiene, but because he never gets splinters.
I have never heard him speak out about the danger of getting splinters, the pain it causes you and your loved ones or how hard it is to type with a splinter in your finger.
I even did a Google search of George Clooney and splinters. It came up empty.
If I was George Clooney, I wouldn’t be in the situation I am now – under the real risk of losing my finger and never being able to type a movie review again in my life.
Over the next few days I ask that you all pray for my finger or call George Clooney and ask for help. If that does not work and this is the end of the line, I just want to say it was a good run.
Editor’s Note: A week after this review was written the splinter in Skippy’s finger fell out on its own. Skippy is currently trying to get the splinter inducted into the Museum of the