Meet my writing partner.

Kate. She's great. I call her Krunchy for reasons forgotten.

Tonight I informed her that I had very itchy ankles. She insisted I put lotion on them. That's a good idea, but however, my ankles are itchy because I have mosquito bites. Oh how I hate them, I hate them so much! As soon as I informed her that it wasn't dry skin, it was because a few nasty little critters had decided that I was best suited to be the walking buffet (I guess my Dad and neighbor didn't look so tasty), she said to put toothpaste on them.

Toothpaste. Fine, that's well and good, but I have the foaming kind of tooth paste, that iso... whatever that as soon as the toothbrush even enters the warm moist recesses of my mouth, it literally explodes. I start brushing my teeth with this stuff and I look like Cujo with bad hair. I mean, it's dripping down my chin, leaking out of a random nostril, hell, I think I caught it coming out of my ear once.

Long story short, I should NEVER have to form the thought to tell her that I don't need foamy ankles.