The squab has already seen this entry on my lj, so I hope that he'll bear with me...
Irony can bite me in the ass,
and I'm absolutely certain that one of these days it will. So, in an effort to make myself feel better, lose weight and generally be healthy, I injured myself. If you look irony up in the dictionary, you'll probably find a picture of me, along with the oozing wounds on my hand, elbow and knees. So I was jogging, which I do almost every single day, and I fell, and not only did I fall, but I sort of skidded and tore all this skin off. To add insult to injury, I fell in front of a bus, and the driver, despite the fact that he was doing nothing, did not even ask if I was ok. It hurts! Of course, after the injury, I realized that there was no way I was going to get through the hydrogen-peroxide process without a cigarette and some wine. So, I walked to dep with blood dripping from three appendages. And say what you will about MJCW, but she knows how to dress wounds, even when the injured party is panicked and squealing like a baby pig. This is, however, only the latest in a long line of exercise-related injuries. The first came from the gym that I went to in high school, wherein one of the weight machines cut my wrist so badly that it looked as though I had a stigmata. The second was when I fell jogging in Madrid and cut my chin, and that time it was A who had to pin me down while he cleaned out my wounds. The most recent (not counting my concrete thump) was the goggle-bruise incident that made me look (and feel) as though I was in an abusive relationship, and I guess I was, but I was only abusing myself by making the goggles too tight while I swam. Maybe a safer way to weight loss would be a drastic reduction in both intake AND movement?
In unrelated news that's not really news, the fat gray has no shame. While I was away, he apparently escaped, but instead of running away, he went into an open window of the downstairs appartement. The stupid thing tasted freedom by sleeping like a slug in another appartment!! The girl in the downstairs appartment came upstairs to inquire whether or not we owned a fat gray cat,and when we said yes, she said that she had found him that morning sleeping on her stomach. (Really, fat gray, you usually need to buy 'em dinner before you do that!!!)
Irony can bite me in the ass,
and I'm absolutely certain that one of these days it will. So, in an effort to make myself feel better, lose weight and generally be healthy, I injured myself. If you look irony up in the dictionary, you'll probably find a picture of me, along with the oozing wounds on my hand, elbow and knees. So I was jogging, which I do almost every single day, and I fell, and not only did I fall, but I sort of skidded and tore all this skin off. To add insult to injury, I fell in front of a bus, and the driver, despite the fact that he was doing nothing, did not even ask if I was ok. It hurts! Of course, after the injury, I realized that there was no way I was going to get through the hydrogen-peroxide process without a cigarette and some wine. So, I walked to dep with blood dripping from three appendages. And say what you will about MJCW, but she knows how to dress wounds, even when the injured party is panicked and squealing like a baby pig. This is, however, only the latest in a long line of exercise-related injuries. The first came from the gym that I went to in high school, wherein one of the weight machines cut my wrist so badly that it looked as though I had a stigmata. The second was when I fell jogging in Madrid and cut my chin, and that time it was A who had to pin me down while he cleaned out my wounds. The most recent (not counting my concrete thump) was the goggle-bruise incident that made me look (and feel) as though I was in an abusive relationship, and I guess I was, but I was only abusing myself by making the goggles too tight while I swam. Maybe a safer way to weight loss would be a drastic reduction in both intake AND movement?
In unrelated news that's not really news, the fat gray has no shame. While I was away, he apparently escaped, but instead of running away, he went into an open window of the downstairs appartement. The stupid thing tasted freedom by sleeping like a slug in another appartment!! The girl in the downstairs appartment came upstairs to inquire whether or not we owned a fat gray cat,and when we said yes, she said that she had found him that morning sleeping on her stomach. (Really, fat gray, you usually need to buy 'em dinner before you do that!!!)