throbbing gristle

Every now and again I check in on PRobot's blog, and it seems that every damn time, he's hurt himself, again. Don't click either link if you're faint of heart or stomach. The boy just has a knack for unintentional self-mutilation.

I debated (for at least a minute, maybe two) about whether to point this out. Does it make me look like a spurned love? Oh, probably. But he's just so funny; I don't know many men who will document a trip to the ER so lovingly, or wish an excised bit of tendon well on its journey to start a new family. I can also hear my mother's sigh of relief, thousands of miles away, that I'm no longer dating a man who spends so much time at SF General. She still worries about who's going to parent my children, after all. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.

Keep looking around his blog and you'll see pictures of a project he'll be unleashing soon. And you'll be all hip and in the know; you'll seem him out in the Mish doing his thing, and you'll be able to turn to your friends and casually detail how the suit was built. And I might as well throw in a shameless plug for his book. It's not published or anything yet, but you'll want a copy when it is.

Maybe he can sign it in blood for you.