A Weekend Full Of The USRDA Of Nine Vitamins, Iron, And Pain
Well, this has been quite the nice past three days...
It's not easy being a teacher. A teacher of anything. I know; I know real teachers who actually go to schools to educate the masses, and their horror stories are legend in my mind. My humble origins teaching martial arts are insignificant next to the skills of those forged teaching in the inner cities.
That being said, Friday night I was a surprisingly impressive teacher of children, something which I know is my weakest point. An hour and a half of good class and work and instruction, in which students actually paid attention to me and learned from me. That was good. Then we concluded with fun and games, and things turned sour. I'm standing there, supervising 30 pre-teens, and I turn to look behind me.
Twist, goes my knee. Shift, goes my knee cap. Torque in wrong direction, goes my lower leg. Down, goes me.
Now, I should point out that, despite the INCREDIBLY EXCRUCIATING PAIN that I felt at that particular moment, my strongest emotion was embarassment as I flopped around on the floor like the proverbial fish out of water in front of 30 children and a number of their parents.
In the words of Jack Nicholson, "Well don't I feel like the fucking asshole now?"
Fortunately two nurses were on hand to help me back into shape. A trip to the ER showed nothing broken. A future trip to an orthopedic doctor will hopefully go well also.
Although this hurts, I am at work right now. More on that in a bit.
So, with the abovementioned pain in mind, I nonetheless got myself all nice and decked out for a wedding the next morning. No, not my wedding. That would be silly. But an old friend out in Queens or Long Island or whereverthehell that is out there. So away I go.
Mapquest is a wondrous invention... occasionally. Out in the open, in the Great Outdoors, in the natural splendor of Mother Nature, Mapquest works great. However, when it comes to navigation within the borders of any major metropolitan area, there are... quirks. And addresses are not always themselves clear enough. So, as I drive down this road looking for 201 Something Street, I pass by 225 Something Street and, immediately next to it, 175 Something Street.
Hmmm, I say.
I circle the block to make sure I'm on the right road. I am. I drive past 225 and 175 again. Hmmm, again.
I park in a lot behind the area and survey the premises. It is a church, so I am somewhat reassured. Eventually I find an entrance and someone confirms that this is the place. Good.
Despite the fact that it was a full Catholic Mass, I did not, as expected, burst into unholy flames and sink screaming into the pit. That's good. The reception was nice, and I got to drink and eat a lot. Thumbs up.
To wrap up the weekend, my parents came over on Sunday afternoon to see my new residence. Never mind the fact that I've been living here for the past six months. Or the fact that I didn't even tell them I'd moved until about a month later. Minor details. They were here and saw that I lived in a good place with good people (you know who you are, good people). And they took us out to dinner, which, hey, I'll never argue about. Dinner is good.
Then some more goofing off, and then fucking Deadwood was fucking on, so us cocksucking motherfucking fuckers sat for a fucking hour to fucking watch that fucking show. I don't know how many of you motherfuckers have seen it, but it fucking seems to me that the cocksuckers who wrote the fucking scripts got paid an extra five hundred fucking dollars for every time some sonofabitch said "fuck" or "cocksucker" or some other fucking profanity. Fucking watch it sometime, motherfucker, and see if I'm fucking wrong.
Then off to bed.
So, as the previous stories have indicated, my knee is absolutely killing me right now. I should take a few days off of work.
I do no such thing, because today of course is the culmination of weeks of work on this project that has my name stamped in a thousand different places. I have to be here. I could be dead, and they would still probably wheel my coffin into my cubicle, put a pen in my cold stiff hand, and have me do shit.
So here I am. Hobbling around in the office. I could use some food right about now. Oh yes indeedy, I could. I could also use a brand-new knee... but the food will have to suffice.
In other news, I didn't wear a coat today, and it's raining. Yippie kaye ay, motherfucker!
It's not easy being a teacher. A teacher of anything. I know; I know real teachers who actually go to schools to educate the masses, and their horror stories are legend in my mind. My humble origins teaching martial arts are insignificant next to the skills of those forged teaching in the inner cities.
That being said, Friday night I was a surprisingly impressive teacher of children, something which I know is my weakest point. An hour and a half of good class and work and instruction, in which students actually paid attention to me and learned from me. That was good. Then we concluded with fun and games, and things turned sour. I'm standing there, supervising 30 pre-teens, and I turn to look behind me.
Twist, goes my knee. Shift, goes my knee cap. Torque in wrong direction, goes my lower leg. Down, goes me.
Now, I should point out that, despite the INCREDIBLY EXCRUCIATING PAIN that I felt at that particular moment, my strongest emotion was embarassment as I flopped around on the floor like the proverbial fish out of water in front of 30 children and a number of their parents.
In the words of Jack Nicholson, "Well don't I feel like the fucking asshole now?"
Fortunately two nurses were on hand to help me back into shape. A trip to the ER showed nothing broken. A future trip to an orthopedic doctor will hopefully go well also.
Although this hurts, I am at work right now. More on that in a bit.
So, with the abovementioned pain in mind, I nonetheless got myself all nice and decked out for a wedding the next morning. No, not my wedding. That would be silly. But an old friend out in Queens or Long Island or whereverthehell that is out there. So away I go.
Mapquest is a wondrous invention... occasionally. Out in the open, in the Great Outdoors, in the natural splendor of Mother Nature, Mapquest works great. However, when it comes to navigation within the borders of any major metropolitan area, there are... quirks. And addresses are not always themselves clear enough. So, as I drive down this road looking for 201 Something Street, I pass by 225 Something Street and, immediately next to it, 175 Something Street.
Hmmm, I say.
I circle the block to make sure I'm on the right road. I am. I drive past 225 and 175 again. Hmmm, again.
I park in a lot behind the area and survey the premises. It is a church, so I am somewhat reassured. Eventually I find an entrance and someone confirms that this is the place. Good.
Despite the fact that it was a full Catholic Mass, I did not, as expected, burst into unholy flames and sink screaming into the pit. That's good. The reception was nice, and I got to drink and eat a lot. Thumbs up.
To wrap up the weekend, my parents came over on Sunday afternoon to see my new residence. Never mind the fact that I've been living here for the past six months. Or the fact that I didn't even tell them I'd moved until about a month later. Minor details. They were here and saw that I lived in a good place with good people (you know who you are, good people). And they took us out to dinner, which, hey, I'll never argue about. Dinner is good.
Then some more goofing off, and then fucking Deadwood was fucking on, so us cocksucking motherfucking fuckers sat for a fucking hour to fucking watch that fucking show. I don't know how many of you motherfuckers have seen it, but it fucking seems to me that the cocksuckers who wrote the fucking scripts got paid an extra five hundred fucking dollars for every time some sonofabitch said "fuck" or "cocksucker" or some other fucking profanity. Fucking watch it sometime, motherfucker, and see if I'm fucking wrong.
Then off to bed.
So, as the previous stories have indicated, my knee is absolutely killing me right now. I should take a few days off of work.
I do no such thing, because today of course is the culmination of weeks of work on this project that has my name stamped in a thousand different places. I have to be here. I could be dead, and they would still probably wheel my coffin into my cubicle, put a pen in my cold stiff hand, and have me do shit.
So here I am. Hobbling around in the office. I could use some food right about now. Oh yes indeedy, I could. I could also use a brand-new knee... but the food will have to suffice.
In other news, I didn't wear a coat today, and it's raining. Yippie kaye ay, motherfucker!