Water kills.
Is part of getting old the whole sensation that your life is flying by? Like, seriously. I'm pretty sure that just the other day, it was July. And now it's December. And next week, I'm going to fall down, break my hip, move into a nursing home and wonder what the hell just happened.
On that note, though......I keep thinking that I've just updated, like, three days ago, and next thing I know, it's been several weeks. Oops.
But back to breaking things. The other day, an icicle tried to BREAK MY HEAD. I get out of work and am minding my own business, standing on our patio trying to knock icicles off the side of the house. This is all fine and well when you just knock off the bottom part - the actual icicle part - but let's say you hit it a little harder than you meant to. You know the really thick part at the top? The solid line of ice from which the icicles drip down? Yeah. That bitch came down on top of me.
I'm honestly surprised that I wasn't knocked out. This massive chunk of ice glanced off the back of my head, slamming into my neck on the way down. At some point, I'd thrown my (gloveless) hands up so it got my hands, too. The pointer finger on my left hand was actually dripping blood. Dripping. I don't believe I've ever encountered that before. It was all very cinematic, or would have been, if not for the fact that I was kind of stunned and curious as to whether my head was still attached to my body.
Anyway, I'm saddened to report that my injuries aren't clearly visible to the naked eye. Because, really, if you're going to get clobbered with frozen water, you want something to show for it. The skin on my finger was actually peeled back - yeah, it's gross - but it's hidden under your average Band-Aid. I'm sure I must have a huge bruise on my head, as every time I barely touch my head, it's painful - but my mane of hair keeps it hidden from view. The part of my neck that you can see has only got a few scratches and bruises. Shit, people. For something that painful, I'm thinking ace bandages and maybe a pair of crutches.
.....yeah, okay. I suppose it might have been hard to go from head injury to crutches. But, still. Still!
Yesterday was a day of Christmas shopping, or as I like to call it - the "what in the hell does one buy for a four-month-old?" day. As happens every single year, I got guilt-tripped into going shopping with my parents. It's like a tradition. My mother and I have the age-old argument about why Chez likes to shop by her self and she eventually breaks me down until I somewhat inexplicably am sitting in the van, listening to my parents bite each other's head off, going "Wait, why am I not in bed anymore? What the hell?"
And, as always, my mother seems to forget that I am a person of a sarcastic nature (ahem), and eventually storms across stores while announcing to my father "I'll tell you something, Geoff, I cannot take much more of her ATTITUDE."
Seriously, though. Did I mention the falling ice incident? I'm pretty sure I already covered that. But, yeah, my back gets sore easily anyway, and while I'm hanging out listening to my father try to convince my mother why, exactly, we need the economy-size snowblower for our teensy driveway, I realize something. And that something is - wow, weak back + family tension + falling ice incident = I WANT TO EAT AND TAKE A PAINKILLER, DAMN IT.
Anyway. As usually happens, things get extremely heated until my father does something to piss off my mother, I make a sarcastic comment, my mother laughs, and then she buys me a new coat. So I'm pretty sure things worked out in the end.
Also - Target has got mint cookie maltballs. People, for real. If you haven't tried these, get your ass down there right now - right now! - and buy some. They're like little speckled green balls of heroin. I swear to god, they're sitting in their box right now, practically fucking twinkling at me, like "Bitch, you thought you might lose weight before Christmas? HA."
I don't think I have much to say in regards to work. Pick your damn jaws up off the floor, already. I don't talk about work all the time. (Okay, yes, I do. But when that's the place you end up spending most of your time....well, you know).
Facebook finally added community colleges, so I signed up for that. And naturally, I've spent the past hour sitting in front of my computer, instead of doing something worthwhile. Like, eat mint cookie maltballs. *sigh* Seriously, though, there are so many people on there. I'm all like "Wow! They're still alive?" And as Michael just proved, I'm sure they're saying the same exact thing about me.
On that note, though......I keep thinking that I've just updated, like, three days ago, and next thing I know, it's been several weeks. Oops.
But back to breaking things. The other day, an icicle tried to BREAK MY HEAD. I get out of work and am minding my own business, standing on our patio trying to knock icicles off the side of the house. This is all fine and well when you just knock off the bottom part - the actual icicle part - but let's say you hit it a little harder than you meant to. You know the really thick part at the top? The solid line of ice from which the icicles drip down? Yeah. That bitch came down on top of me.
I'm honestly surprised that I wasn't knocked out. This massive chunk of ice glanced off the back of my head, slamming into my neck on the way down. At some point, I'd thrown my (gloveless) hands up so it got my hands, too. The pointer finger on my left hand was actually dripping blood. Dripping. I don't believe I've ever encountered that before. It was all very cinematic, or would have been, if not for the fact that I was kind of stunned and curious as to whether my head was still attached to my body.
Anyway, I'm saddened to report that my injuries aren't clearly visible to the naked eye. Because, really, if you're going to get clobbered with frozen water, you want something to show for it. The skin on my finger was actually peeled back - yeah, it's gross - but it's hidden under your average Band-Aid. I'm sure I must have a huge bruise on my head, as every time I barely touch my head, it's painful - but my mane of hair keeps it hidden from view. The part of my neck that you can see has only got a few scratches and bruises. Shit, people. For something that painful, I'm thinking ace bandages and maybe a pair of crutches.
.....yeah, okay. I suppose it might have been hard to go from head injury to crutches. But, still. Still!
Yesterday was a day of Christmas shopping, or as I like to call it - the "what in the hell does one buy for a four-month-old?" day. As happens every single year, I got guilt-tripped into going shopping with my parents. It's like a tradition. My mother and I have the age-old argument about why Chez likes to shop by her self and she eventually breaks me down until I somewhat inexplicably am sitting in the van, listening to my parents bite each other's head off, going "Wait, why am I not in bed anymore? What the hell?"
And, as always, my mother seems to forget that I am a person of a sarcastic nature (ahem), and eventually storms across stores while announcing to my father "I'll tell you something, Geoff, I cannot take much more of her ATTITUDE."
Seriously, though. Did I mention the falling ice incident? I'm pretty sure I already covered that. But, yeah, my back gets sore easily anyway, and while I'm hanging out listening to my father try to convince my mother why, exactly, we need the economy-size snowblower for our teensy driveway, I realize something. And that something is - wow, weak back + family tension + falling ice incident = I WANT TO EAT AND TAKE A PAINKILLER, DAMN IT.
Anyway. As usually happens, things get extremely heated until my father does something to piss off my mother, I make a sarcastic comment, my mother laughs, and then she buys me a new coat. So I'm pretty sure things worked out in the end.
Also - Target has got mint cookie maltballs. People, for real. If you haven't tried these, get your ass down there right now - right now! - and buy some. They're like little speckled green balls of heroin. I swear to god, they're sitting in their box right now, practically fucking twinkling at me, like "Bitch, you thought you might lose weight before Christmas? HA."
I don't think I have much to say in regards to work. Pick your damn jaws up off the floor, already. I don't talk about work all the time. (Okay, yes, I do. But when that's the place you end up spending most of your time....well, you know).
Facebook finally added community colleges, so I signed up for that. And naturally, I've spent the past hour sitting in front of my computer, instead of doing something worthwhile. Like, eat mint cookie maltballs. *sigh* Seriously, though, there are so many people on there. I'm all like "Wow! They're still alive?" And as Michael just proved, I'm sure they're saying the same exact thing about me.