My left knee reminds me of the Celine Dion song Ziggy. Except it’s less about an anorectic Canadian chick digging a gay dude, and more about my one knee being very unlike the other. So, I guess it’s really just the French title it reminds me of.
Luckily, it’s the knee that was already fucked up by running, so I can still jump around on one leg like some intern at the ministry of silly walks.
