Well Slap My Ass And Call Me Chappy

Yeah, I'm in a bit of a foul mood. Surprising? No, probably not.

Honestly!

You know when you feel like things are finally beginning to turn around and head in the right direction and you feel fantastic and fabulous and gay? And then the other shoe drops?

In my case, there really is no other shoe. Just life. And the living of it. I swear to the Almighty that I think Miss Britt and I are related somehow.....

Anyway, it all started with a bad hair day and went downhill from there. (I ripped this from a book, but it works) Instead of a bad hair day, mine happened from a rolled ankle. From kickboxing you ask? No. Oh no. This little medical malfunction came from my usual course of stupidity and clumsiness. I really have no idea how someone who can be so coordinated in some areas is a hopeless klutz in others. I don't have enough time in this post, and you aren't bored enough to read it anyway, to go into my medical history, but most of my hospital visits were from my inability to place one foot in front of the other, or intoxication. Sometimes both.

Where was I? Oh, I remember. I rolled my ankle. Sitting down in my overstuffed, ubercomfy chair. Are you fucking kidding me?

I went to hop into the chair to read and veg out last night and kind of stepped on my own foot. I did feel something twist, but I ignored it since my whole body has been a bundle of aches and pains since I started kickboxing. Later on, I went out to the garage and noticed that my ankle was tender. I still ignored it. (Anyone see a pattern here?) I hobbled back inside and told the hubs that my ankle felt funny. Then I decided to look at it, so I rolled up my pants. Ohmyfuckingeverlovingjudaspriest! My ankle was the size of a softball. So I guess I did hurt myself.

So now, a day later, I am still in some pain. I bought an ankle serape and wrapped it up tight, but every time I take it off, it swells up again. Shit! If it doesn't get better by tomorrow, I guess I'm gonna hafta haul my one-cankled self over to the doctor. She's great. I may even get some drugs out of it.

But seriously. Now, I doubt I'll be able to work out this week and I'm out of town next week. I feel like all of the effort I have put into working out these last three weeks is going to go down the drain.

Now I am feeling sorry for myself. I am like a guy in many ways and my inability to deal with pain or sickness is one of them. And last night, instead of being at Avitable's Halloween party, where all of the great bloggers were, I was laying in bed with a heating pad, whimpering and whining.

So the moral of this story is:

If you have the chance to fly to FLORIDA in late October and you are from OHIO where it is forty degrees out, for a rip-roaring drunken Halloweenie good time, for the love of money, go!!!! If you don't, something bad will happen to you.

I should have been drinking, instead I hurt myself sober.

That is a direct quote from me to you and I may have this printed up on a T-Shirt for posterity.