Thursday, October 20, 2005 - vicoden is not a crutch

after finding out yesterday that woodhull hospital set my fingers wrong, and they had to be re-broken and re-set, i am sitting here irritated as all hell, jacked up on vicoden, which has dulled the pain but semi-crippled me mentally...

and it has really started to irk me after the 1000 gagillionth person asked... never in my life have i been approached so many times by random strangers demanding to know the details of the cast on my arm. not even counting my friends, casual acquaintances, work colleagues -- everyone person within ear shot feels entitled to know just how the break occurred!

i broke my foot last may, and i swear that although people were curious, nowhere near the same number of people inquired into the cause of the break.

(although that could have stemmed from the fact that i was one of the most miserable people trying to crutch around manhattan, muttering to myself like a crazy, i took to calling the people stealing my cabs and refusing to move on the sidewalk so I would have to crutch around their able bodies "fuckin cunts" which is pretty bad, and i used it several dozen times a day, and it must be noted until last summer i hated the "c-word" more then any other explicative and avoided using it at all costs, but i digress)

but with the arm cast, I guess I look just pitiful enough for people to ask... and ask... and ask....

The real, but expurgated story is such:
- i was walking to the groom's house after the donnelly wedding after party with drunken canadian will norcross (aka rex porncross)
- a 25 minute walk turns into a 2 hour debacle, as will, who supposedly knew where we were going, got lost
- it started pouring
- i am 5'2", will is 6'4"
- will decides we'd move faster if he carries me... on his shoulders
- i think riding on will's shoulders is a bad idea
- he convinces me that i should just try it, and if i don't like it after 10 feet he will put me down
- i don't like it after 10 feet
- he puts me down... jolting into me with his head
- i fall forward on to a grass slope, on my left hand
- pop, crack, cast

that is the last time that story will be told... there may be variations thrown out there under the guise of the truth, but i think i'm going to start going with the most quipped question people sarcastically ask me, "bar fight?" instead of chuckling, from now on I'm saying, "yes."

the best part (and i say that sardonically) about having a cast is the fact that i can basically not feel bad about lying to people's faces about what happened.

so far i've run with "skateboard accident" "circus try-outs" "getting pushed down stairs" and, my favorite, "bar fight" will probably stand.... as the huge Italian guy in the mobbed up pizza place by my house said last night, "what does the other guy look like?"

i just read this over and this is quite possibly the dumbest blog i have ever written, i guess i could blame it on my vicoden-addled brain, but hey kids, drugs are not a crutch! i'll take the full blame for this spew...

or maybe i'll displace a little of this blame on canada and woodhull!!