Ok FINE!
I recently broke my ass. No...really, I broke my ass! At 31 you would think that I had come much closer to such an injury in the past. Hell, I was the clever bastard that decided that a piece of four foot plywood and six broken bricks could make a secure ramp in the alley. No broken ass after that one, but my face was never quite the same.
See, I was just minding my own biz-wacks watching the new episode of 24. Yeah I know...shut the hell up! If I want reality I would watch the tuft of hair on my lower back grow. I like to dose my existence with the unreal -because reality is....well, reality! Moving on to my ass!
I smoke, so like a good boy I do this outside. During the commercials, I'm off the races. Puff-puff with my face smashed against the window -watching consumer blips of the new H3 race across desert, a yeast infection something or other, a thing with a frog being flipped off a spoon (I have know clue about that one), and other "buy me" like stuff.
So there I am all face smashed, and puff-puffing, when I realize that cancer has beaten me again! I'm missing my fucking unrealistic show! Jack!!!! Wait for me!!!!
I fling open the door like a madman, bank around the lounger leading into the living room, and........did I happen to mention that I'm in socks on a freshly waxed hardwood floor? No? Well I was until both my feet (damn feet) shot forward like I was about to leap on that horse thing in gymnastics.
Needless to say, as I flew through the air in slow motion, I realized two things. ONE, my knee caps don't look the same. I think the left one is bigger than the right. TWO, I am not a fourteen year old female gymnast. Thusly I came down with an ass breaking thud! DAMN YOU JACK BOWER!! DAMN YOU TO HELL!!!
I soon found out that no matter how professional emergency workers are, they still get a giggle out of the broken ass scenario. They don't laugh at you outright, but comments like "What color butt donut would you like?" and "You won't be riding any horses any time soon!" didn't help my pride any. Some guy named Jose kept laughing when he left the x-ray room, but he swore it was about the lady who they just got in. HA HA! She totaled her car. HA HA! Something about her spleen.
Anyway, all said and done, I got some pretty cool drugs out of the deal. You know, the kind with warnings on the side like Don't drink alcoholic beverages when taking this medication, and Taking more of the prescribed amount may cause.......drowsiness. Yeah, I was jazzed too! But, I felt I would be adult about the whole thing, and not waste my precious ass medication on juvenile jollies.
This brings us to my current problem.
Upon exiting the shower this morning, all squeaky clean and shaved down (like you don't) I placed one of my joy pills on the counter. I told myself deodorant, brush, spit, take pill. Well, I instantly forgot. Somewhere around spit I got lost.
A good twenty minutes later I finished breakfast, and popped a pill from the container. Joyous pill down my gullet, I love thee! -that's my little song and dance with the pill thing. I headed for the door. Then oops! I forgot my cell phone....I know....It's in the bathroom! As you can see, this forget thing is a bitter trend with me. So, I happily trot over to my toilet nook, and pick it up.
OH LOOK! MY HAPPY PILL! It was just sitting there on the edge of the sink. Looking at me like "Forgot about me you jackass." Indeed, I had forgotten to take my pill....right? So I took it.
I'll let you think about that for a second..............................
Ok, so........I'm high now. Not really on purpose, but high as a kite none the less. My drive to work was interesting to say the least. Not only did my steering wheel get a mind of its own, but I swear a tiny little clown car raced past me in the fast lane. Red and white streamers flying behind it, and a bumper sticker that read: I GIVE GOOD NOSE. What the hell?!
Now I sit here at my desk, surrounded by particle board walls, and I know that they are coming for me. Who are they? Where do they come from? Why am I talking to my highlighter?
Oh well, what the hell! Power to the junkies! Excuse me while I go seek out the buffalo that brushed past my cubicle.
Til next time..................FU
See, I was just minding my own biz-wacks watching the new episode of 24. Yeah I know...shut the hell up! If I want reality I would watch the tuft of hair on my lower back grow. I like to dose my existence with the unreal -because reality is....well, reality! Moving on to my ass!
I smoke, so like a good boy I do this outside. During the commercials, I'm off the races. Puff-puff with my face smashed against the window -watching consumer blips of the new H3 race across desert, a yeast infection something or other, a thing with a frog being flipped off a spoon (I have know clue about that one), and other "buy me" like stuff.
So there I am all face smashed, and puff-puffing, when I realize that cancer has beaten me again! I'm missing my fucking unrealistic show! Jack!!!! Wait for me!!!!
I fling open the door like a madman, bank around the lounger leading into the living room, and........did I happen to mention that I'm in socks on a freshly waxed hardwood floor? No? Well I was until both my feet (damn feet) shot forward like I was about to leap on that horse thing in gymnastics.
Needless to say, as I flew through the air in slow motion, I realized two things. ONE, my knee caps don't look the same. I think the left one is bigger than the right. TWO, I am not a fourteen year old female gymnast. Thusly I came down with an ass breaking thud! DAMN YOU JACK BOWER!! DAMN YOU TO HELL!!!
I soon found out that no matter how professional emergency workers are, they still get a giggle out of the broken ass scenario. They don't laugh at you outright, but comments like "What color butt donut would you like?" and "You won't be riding any horses any time soon!" didn't help my pride any. Some guy named Jose kept laughing when he left the x-ray room, but he swore it was about the lady who they just got in. HA HA! She totaled her car. HA HA! Something about her spleen.
Anyway, all said and done, I got some pretty cool drugs out of the deal. You know, the kind with warnings on the side like Don't drink alcoholic beverages when taking this medication, and Taking more of the prescribed amount may cause.......drowsiness. Yeah, I was jazzed too! But, I felt I would be adult about the whole thing, and not waste my precious ass medication on juvenile jollies.
This brings us to my current problem.
Upon exiting the shower this morning, all squeaky clean and shaved down (like you don't) I placed one of my joy pills on the counter. I told myself deodorant, brush, spit, take pill. Well, I instantly forgot. Somewhere around spit I got lost.
A good twenty minutes later I finished breakfast, and popped a pill from the container. Joyous pill down my gullet, I love thee! -that's my little song and dance with the pill thing. I headed for the door. Then oops! I forgot my cell phone....I know....It's in the bathroom! As you can see, this forget thing is a bitter trend with me. So, I happily trot over to my toilet nook, and pick it up.
OH LOOK! MY HAPPY PILL! It was just sitting there on the edge of the sink. Looking at me like "Forgot about me you jackass." Indeed, I had forgotten to take my pill....right? So I took it.
I'll let you think about that for a second..............................
Ok, so........I'm high now. Not really on purpose, but high as a kite none the less. My drive to work was interesting to say the least. Not only did my steering wheel get a mind of its own, but I swear a tiny little clown car raced past me in the fast lane. Red and white streamers flying behind it, and a bumper sticker that read: I GIVE GOOD NOSE. What the hell?!
Now I sit here at my desk, surrounded by particle board walls, and I know that they are coming for me. Who are they? Where do they come from? Why am I talking to my highlighter?
Oh well, what the hell! Power to the junkies! Excuse me while I go seek out the buffalo that brushed past my cubicle.
Til next time..................FU
posted by Frank Upton at 6:25 AM
2 Comments:
That's really fucked up.
And the Dallas Observer sucks.
Those goddamn clowns should have their license revoked
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