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08:43:28 - 2000-08-28

CHECK IT OUT...MY MEDICATION CAN TALK!

Okay ... for those of you who have NO IDEA how my weekend went...shame the shit outta you. Now then ... go here first to get caught up.

THEN come back to this entry.

THEN if you still feel like poring over every single detail of my weekend, no matter how mundane...go here.

...And then seriously ... get a fucking life...I'm worried about you, man.

Alright now...

Is everyone now aware of my current situation??

Good.

We can begin...

*********************************************

HOLY FUCKING SHIT MY ARM HURTS!!!!!!!!!!

First off, thanks for the letters and email cards and messages that showered me with pity and let me know that self-loathing was coo'.

Y'all are angels in disguise.

Second ... well...technically, I have no second.

But I've got plenty of Darvocet. Want one??

Lemme tell ya about Darvocet. As soon as you take it, you feel better.

So much better that it makes you THINK that you're completely healed.

I took one yesterday morning after typing in my diary entry, because an hour of being out of the sling and using my right hand to type was causing me great distress.

This is why I'm hunting and pecking today.

So I take the pill and feel better instantly.

And I tell Suze..."Hey...I think I'm doing much better today than I was yesterday."

WRONG, DIPSHIT. IT'S THE DARVOCET TALKING.

So all of a sudden, I think I'm Superman. I can do no wrong.

WRONG, DIPSHIT. IT'S THE DARVOCET TALKING.

Two hours later, I feel like I fed my arm through a mulcher.

We go to church where EVERYONE asks what in the world did Susie do to me...ha ha ha.

Apparently, down South...domestic violence is a riot inside God's house.

I'm trying to explain to people that I fell on the ice at the mall.

That's not funny enough for the people at my church. They want HILARIOUS.

And Susie beating me and breaking my arm is ten times funnier than falling on ice. Because falling on ice is actually a genuine concern amongst the elderly.

Even though we never get ice storms here in lower Alabama, it's still taboo to talk about falling on ice with anyone over the age of 50.

ME: "Well...really...I fell on the ice at the mall, and..."

EVERY DAMNED MEMBER OF MY CHURCH OVER THE AGE OF 50: (Horrified look on their face and rushing away from me)"Say no more."

And of course...EVERYBODY wants to hear my story...but only ten seconds of it. Not the whole story. The GIST of the story.

Well shit. How am I supposed to redeem myself in ten seconds?

I kept trying to throw in..."But...I was the MVP of the game!"

Nobody cared. Once I said "slipped and fell on the ice", they took their fragile, rickety hip bones elsewhere. Anywhere but near my bad luck ass.

Came home from church and was in horrifying pain. I felt like I had covered my arm in fish blood and went swimming with sharks.

Took a Darvocet.

Felt like climbing a tree in ten minutes.

... Except for the fact that I kept falling asleep while talking to Susie. If I could just get past THAT hurdle, I coulda changed a car tire or something equally macho.

I laid down for a short nap. Propped my arm up on some pillows and closed my eyes for a few minutes.

Three and a half hours later I was staring at the alarm clock in horror.

I had slept the afternoon away.

I NEVER nap that long. The MOST I've ever slept in an afternoon was an hour.

Damned good Darvocet.

I get out of bed and my arm feels funny.

Oh. Maybe that's because it's TWICE THE SIZE that it would normally be.

Everything on my arm is swollen. My hand looks hilarious. It's fat and puffy and itches. My fingers are like elephant tampons. It's huge, I'm telling ya.

My wrist...well...I have none right now. My arm is a stump with a hand on the end. No wrist to speak of.

I'm beginning to think that the doc at Doc in the Box is missing the whole boat on my arm. We really focused on my elbow because it was all torn up from the ice and that's what I was complaining about on Saturday.

But today, my whole freakin' arm is messed up. It's thicker than Curly's skull and hurts like a Dear John letter.

I woke up at 4 am, got out of bed and checked the ol' armage out.

Felt great.

Danced to the kitchen, got a bottle of water, walked out to the curb, got the morning paper, came back in and sat down thinking "My arm is completely healed. 100 percent, baby."

Thirty minutes later, I only know one thing ...

WRONG, DIPSHIT. IT'S THE DARVOCET TALKING.

***********************************************

QUESTION OF THE DAY

What is your second favorite TV show?

(Alright...sue me. YOU take a Darvocet and come up with a decent question...IT'S IMPOSSIBLE!!)

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