No, not that finger.
The finger is good for many things. Today I found pleasure in using my finger to:
a. Scrape the sides of the peanut butter jar to better access the junk that likes to hide under the curve in hopes of escaping my mouth. Don't worry, I keep the peanut butter in my own personal closet. It's like a germ-breeding hotel in there. If anyone would like to declare biological warfare on any exes, obnoxious relatives, or telemarketing companies, I'm your woman. Otherwise, you'd do well to stay away from the closet.
b. Stroke the shoulder of some poor man sitting in front of me at a basketball game. Then I realized me knee still had an itch and withdrew my finger at once. The confused glance I received brought me pleasure in a highly twisted way.
c. Click to enlarge pictures of my brother's friends. Preferably the attractive ones in foreign countries. This is not considered Facebook stalking. I do not believe in Facebook. This was an upkeep service, as this brother asked me to keep an eye on his account for him while he's away. That's what he said, and I know this is how he meant it. I was sorely tempted to comment inappropriate/12-year-old girl comments on several walls, but I don't think that qualifies as "keeping an eye on." Clearly, I like to stick strictly to the letter of the law.
d. Point at myself in the mirror, proceeding to wink and smile, then act shocked and flattered, and repeat.
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