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This is me. A blog about my daily life and slices-of-life. It's honest, it's funny, it's sad, it's witty, it's sarcastic, sometimes it's soapbox-ish, it sometimes rambles, sometimes it's artsy, sometimes it's dorky but, it is always honest and always me. (Which ever "me" decides to show up on that particular day.) Simply put, it's just my daily world that I'm trying to sort out the only way I know how, through words.
8 comments:
Does a circle of stuffed animals count? If so, I'm bringing you this comment from the Zodiac Lounge.
I'm suddenly in a dark, cheesy, musky room with a lotta smoke and you are on stage in a gold glitter suit......
Well, you know PG, I DO take my Karaoke very serious.
I ended up in a cast and a wheelchair for 13 weeks as a result of Karaoke. Therefore, I take NOT doing Karaoke very seriously.
You need to share that story sometime. Or if you have, point me to it.
ugh!
The very, very , very short story, as it is a very, very, very long story is:
I was out with a girlfriend. I had just ended a realtionship with a boyfriend mere hours before so we were out to have a good time.
She put my name up to sing.
I can't sing.
At all.
It's bad and it's ugly.
The people there took their singing very seriously.
My name is called.
Fine.
I go up to the stage to sing.
Unbeknownst to me there were stairs.
Stairs going down from the bar were we were to the lounge then to the stage.
I walked right off the stairs.
Yep, not a clue that they were there.
Why?
Because there wasn't anything to indicate that stairs should be or were present.
I landed perfectly flat on my four inch stilletoos, breaking y distal fibula.
I had many men come to my rescue.
One was a perimedic. NO, a fireman.
He was yummy,
He told me I just sprained my leg/foot really bad.
Ok.
So I stayed at the bar until closing time.
I was carried out to my car by the fireman.
Lovely kiss goodnight.
I drove home.
A niehgbor asked me in for a beer.
I crawled my way to my apartment.
Not because i was drunk, but because of the swelling and pain.
I walked on the broken leg for 3 days.
Yes, three days before I went to the Dr.
The only reason I went to the dr. was because my foot resembled a baked ham with tootsie rolls sticking out of it and it was an odd shade of green and purple.
I drove myself to the dr.
The nurses kept saying things like...oh, oh, oh my.,...,over and over again.
The dr. refused to cast it for 4 days because of the swelling...
and then the real story of horror began.
13 weeks. 13. Nine of which was spent in an cast only to find out it was just as broken as the night I broke it.
Many calls to lawyers, two doctors who Ir efused treatment from...and again, the story has just began.....
oh, it was from June 3rd to August 24 of last year.
Well PG, judging by your latest picture, both of your legs look delicious. All's well that ends well.
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