Wednesday, October 31, 2007

Right Fucking On


Just when I start to lose all hope for the world something like this happens. A guy from York, PA, where I live, took the Westboro Baptist fuckers to court and WON!! These assholes protested at his son's funeral and he sued them for damages. 11 million dollars sounds good to me. As my readers know, we had a run in with these jerks and experienced their "protests" first hand.

Score one for the home team, and one for the good in this world. I hope these bastards have to stop with these ridiculous protests because they won't have money to put gas in their crazy bus.

Tuesday, October 23, 2007

My Month Without Pants, Part 1


As evidenced by my lack of production, my broken leg hit me pretty hard. I was listless, foggy and uninspired. I mean, more so than usual. So, I took some time to recap the low lights of my time in the plaster, and collected them here for you.
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After I hobbled a mile and a half (uphill, mostly) out of the woods, drove 40 minutes home, changed clothes, and walked into the hospital, I finally broke down. Big, red-eyed, unattractive tears. It hit me that this was no run of the mill injury. My suspicions were confirmed by the kind, British radiology woman. She said to me, "Well, I'm not supposed to tell you, but it's broken. You'll find out soon enough, though."
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My taller than tall doctor was not into my jokes. He splinted my no doubt stinky foot and sent me on my way with a referral for my real doctor. And, a prescription for magic pills. Somewhere in my stupid brain I heard the words coming out of my mouth, "I'm not going to take them, anyway." That lasted about 3 hours. I got home, onto the couch and realized that in all that "activity" my leg really hurt.

I called my mother to break the news to her (ha ha) and then popped my narcotics cherry. They were okay, nothing to write home about. But they helped me sleep like a champ. Despite Greazy treating me like some kind of junkie, I kept taking the pills. Two sometimes, just to sleep. But, I always waited the 4-6 hours in between. God, I'm a nerd even when I'm in terrible pain. I'm hopeless.

So, I get the splint off, and a cast on, and still no real doctor. Since I'm not fun, and don't require screws, pins, etc. I get a Mr. not a Dr. But, it mattered not, as I also got STD. No, not like that, Short Term Disability. NO WORK. Have more beautiful words ever been uttered.
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Next time . . .the joys of a man servant, and more.