Tuesday, August 10, 2010


OK, right after I moved into my new apartment in late June, I, with my long summer toe-nails and flip-flops, stubbed the big toe on my right foot, jamming the toe-nail... TWICE within one evening. By the next day, the nail had turned a dark purple. I thought it would fix itself within a week, but no. As of August, two months later, now the sides of the nail are separating from the skin and most of the nail is still dark purple.

At first, I was just pissed off that I couldn't go and get my nails done for the summer. (How retarded is it to have 9 red nails and one big ol' PURPLE NAIL? That's NOT a summery and sexy look.)

Now, though, it's just plain freaking me out! Why? Well, for one thing, I know everything about Sylvia Plath, and I know that her dickwad father, Otto, DIED -- DIED -- after gangrene set in after he STUBBED HIS BIG TOE! I really, really, REALLY DON'T want this sort of irony in my life and/or death.

After checking out the "toe-nail issue" online, found the below:


"...If the toe continues to be swollen and red after you have drained the excess fluid, see a doctor to ensure it has not become infected. Take infection seriously, if it continues to hurt or the pain increases, this is a bad sign. Toe infections can lead to blood infections, gangrene, and worse, especially if you have diabetes..."

That's not fucking helpful! Oh my god. What if I die like Otto Plath?? (That's just embarrassing, like going out a la Michael Lohan or Jon Voigt...)


You do not do, you do not do
Any more, black shoe
In which I have lived like a foot
For thirty years, poor and white,
Barely daring to breathe or Achoo.

Daddy, I have had to kill you.
You died before I had time ---
Marble-heavy, a bag full of God,
Ghastly statue with one gray toe
Big as a Frisco seal...

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