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basurablanca

Arvada ('burbs rule)

Member Since 2003

Followers 57 Following 66

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Sunday May 21, 2006

May 20, 2006
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Here's how it all went down for those who haven't heard the summation:

Wednesday afternoon I climbed up on my roof to get my swamp cooler ready for the summer (if you don't have one - or central air - they're practically worth falling off your fucking roof for). After dicking around up there for a bit (had to clean out the gutters as well) I went to climb down off the roof. When I planted my weight on the ladder to climb down I went in one direction and the ladder went in another.

It's amazing how things can go lightning quick and agonizingly slow at the same time.

I believe I said/thought the word fuck 247 times in the less then a second it took my body to go from 10 or so feet up to ground level. Upon hitting the ground a warm/wet sensation spread throughout my pelvic region and I immediately thought, "Great, now I've shit my fucking pants on top of all this." At this point I then go back to saying/thinking fuck another 681 times while I writhe around on the ground mortified that I've shit my pants and in brain frying pain. Another thing about injuries, your concept of time becomes totally fucked. Therefore, I'll be using measurements of time that may, in fact, be completely innacurate. Keep this in mind.

After about 5 to 10 minutes I mange to get my pain to a manageable level and make a dash for the house. I run from my back yard (for those of you who have been to a party here, this would be the spot in the back yard where the beer usually lives) crouched over and, of course, shouting fuck repeatedly. This is immediate blackout level pain. My target, the bathtub. Why, you ask? Being as I was scared shitless (sorry couldn't help myself) that I had shit my pants my first concern was to get myself cleaned up. I am, after all, a vain little bitch. I make it to the bathtub, hunched over in pain (muttering fuck at this point, it's exhausting to be in pain and shout) and chilled out for a second. I finally got enough energy to strip myself down and see if I needed to do something about that. Luckly, no. I had not, in fact, shat myself. I shall explain the warm wetness latter.

After I find out I'm not immediatly any more repulsive then usual, and have regained some sort of energy to make another mad burst, I decide to make a run for my phone and to get my dumb ass some help. More crouched running and fuck mumbling ensue, I manged to get my phone from my office and flop my exhausted bare ass onto the bed and reach out to the only person who I thought could help me. So, it turns out Jesus isn't taking my calls anymore. Who knew that fucking the baby Jesus isn't considered polite conversation by some people? When that didn't work I went to the next most obvious solution.

Amy is fucking amazing. I can't possibly say this enough. The shit I put this woman through is unbelieveable. It's a wonder that she wasn't there pulling the ladder out from underneath me (I know, most of you wouldn't have blamed her). I get a hold of her and she flys down to my rescue here at the house. We get me into some clothes and head off to the hospital. Well, at least to the first hospital.

On that note, I wasn't really expecting to be this verbose. So, I will leave you all with a cliff hanger and will continue this latter in the week (only a day or two, I promise, for the one of you who might actually be interested, I won't leave you hanging). For now, I am goddamned tired and need to get some pain meds in my body and pass right the fuck out.

To be continued...
VIEW 10 of 10 COMMENTS
jonnyjonnyh:
Hey no problemo man. Thanks for the kind words on my hair. It was a spur of the moment thing when it happened.
May 22, 2006
qunybble:
It was a wonderful story. I'm making a "gimpy" group and you should join
May 23, 2006

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