800mg
800 mg of ibuprofen sounds like a lot of painkiller. Multiply it by three and you have the amount of knee-deadening I have been doing each day this week.
I WILL EAT YOUR BRAINS
With apologies to Aphex Twin.
The zombie pub crawl this year is on September 9th, 2006. I expect you to be there in full zombie drag. If you can’t get your own makeup together, have a voodoo priestess actually kill you and raise you from the dead again. I did, and I feel great.
Warning: do not let the fake blood touch anything that you cannot steam clean. Gross.
Speaking of Getting a Scratch
The doctor says that I can’t ride my bike for at least two weeks. Starting two days ago.
Ow. Ow. Ow. I think it’s time to take an 800mg ibuprofen tablet. Ow. Ow. Ow.
Just Cut It Off, Already
Yesterday my knee hurt. I woke up this morning at 6am or so with my knee so cramped up that I couldn’t move it. I hobbled to the bathroom and back, trying to be quiet, but when I crawled into bed again it was all I could do to not gouge out my own eyes just to take my mind off of my knee. Of course I couldn’t be quiet enough, but instead of waking up and killing me for waking her up, Cake Woman got me an ice pack. This morning she made me coffee and a breakfast burrito.
Lube, Oil, Filter
I took the afternoon off to pick up the plates for my car at the dealership and have them change the oil. In the future I will be scheduling such excursions outside of working hours, but I figured that 13 days was plenty of days to drive with an expired 21 day pass. If you’re thinking that I have become a heathen who revels in frivolous oil consumption, (perhaps because of some grumpy tirades I may have posted in response to the bicycle community’s fetishistic affair with their own two wheels) you might be right. I am gleeful in having a stereo to pass the time of my commute.
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Double Magic
Last night’s Chipotle and a strong cup of coffee both cast spells on me this morning. I crapped so much that I saw my soul.
Sunday Bloody Sunday
Today I borrowed my mom’s husband’s truck, bought a couch, delivered it, unwrapped it, returned the truck, helped my mom’s husband clean the basement for his upcoming asbestos abatement, came home, and took all of the packaging from the couch and all of the empty boxes from Cake Woman’s and my moves outside.
Superdickery
I thought Superman was okay. I didn’t expect it to turn into a pirate movie at the end, and it was kind of weird to suddently have Johnny Depp show up, but maybe I shouldn’t have fallen asleep in the middle. It might have made more sense if I could have actually seen Lex Luthor call up the pirates to fight Superman for him. But then, it wasn’t very Supermanish at the end — I mean, he wasn’t even there. Really, it was like one of those dreams where you’re trying to do one thing and you can’t quite do it, and then all of a sudden you’re at your old elementary school and you’re trying to return a book or something but you can’t find the library and there are Cthulu pirates.
I Put On My Robe And Wizard’s Hat
Cake Woman wanted to find a place to hang up her robe, so I started singing the BloodNinja exchange to her, assuming that she had actually been on the internet at some point in her life. She had not, so she looked at me like I was fucking crazy.
Who’s the crazy one now? Huh? Huh?
Say it!
HAARRRRRR!!!!!
