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People ask the funniest damn questions when you come back from the doctor's in worse shape than you were in when you left. Not only am I now sporting brand new holes from the Tetanus shot, and a blood test (Redux!), but there are bulk-sized bandaids covering my left knee, and both my elbows.
What hapenned was this: my stupid ankle decided to turn, and buckle. Right as I was Crossing the Fucking Street! I thought I was going to be road pizza, after that little spill. Not sure how, but I managed to bet myself back up on my feet, and made it safely to the sidewalk, before collapsing in a pile of owchies.
Do I need any more proof that there is some higher power out there, which loves irony, and hates my guts. All I want to know is what I did in a past life to deserve this. Spit on the sidewalk? Kill people? Be George W. Bush?
What hapenned was this: my stupid ankle decided to turn, and buckle. Right as I was Crossing the Fucking Street! I thought I was going to be road pizza, after that little spill. Not sure how, but I managed to bet myself back up on my feet, and made it safely to the sidewalk, before collapsing in a pile of owchies.
Do I need any more proof that there is some higher power out there, which loves irony, and hates my guts. All I want to know is what I did in a past life to deserve this. Spit on the sidewalk? Kill people? Be George W. Bush?
