My toes are currently not as happy as these toes . . . and I blame it on our fame obsessed culture.

So, 10 days ago, I was walking the dogs in the morning past the home of Ms. Sandra Bullock and Mr. Jesse James, when a car and driver pulled up (yes, every car that pulls up to a house has a driver, but I mean a Driver, you know, like a chaffeur guy), and the garage door started to open up. Of course, I am way too cool to actually just stand there and stare, so we proceeded down the road, with me being much more willing to let the dogs linger and sniff at every pee-soaked blade of grass. As we got a bit farther down the block, I had no choice but to keep looking over my shoulder, which lead to me stubbing my big toe - badly - on a raised section of the sidewalk. Well, sure, but I couldn't be expected to notice that, right? Except that the County has already painted the raised edge flourescent orange . . .

Anyways, 10 days later it is still KILLING me. . . . and I have no one to blame but myself and my nosiness.