Tuesday, January 16, 2007


So I have now a date. The date that the pins and screw get taken out of my foot. Feb. 9th I will no longer have a bionic foot. Then about two more weeks to make sure I don't have an orthopeadic collapse. I'm not quite sure what that is but it's doesn't sound good. Actully, it sounds like something we go any given nursing home at 0200 to pick up. Medic 5... 76, delta response... to the old folks home for an 81 year old complaining of orthopaedic collaspe. Patient will be in the dinning room.


Then after that I will leave cubicle hell and head back to the streets, where instead of dealing with the HQ crowd I get my freaks and tweeks back. I'm still debating which can cause me more pain. At least at the office I'm not getting spit on. But then again, I go back to what I love. Having the freedom to drive where ever I want and having my free time during the week to do things like doctors appointments and going to the bank. I really am having trouble figuring out how people stuck behind a desk 9-5 get anything done. Like when do they go to the grocery store? Or to the bank? An hour for lunch just isn't enough time to really do much of anything. I can barely eat, let alone be productive. I guess I have spent to much of my working life with such a screwed up schedule that normal hours no longer apply anymore. Going grocery shopping at 3am just doesn't seem all that strange to me. There sure isn't a whole hell of alot of people getting in the way. and the drunk college kids in the Harris Teeter at 3 in the morning are always good for entertainment. Speaking of drunk college kids, I just have to say I was witness to the most spectaular conversation between two fantasticly drunk girls in the bathroom of a downtown bar. There just isn't words for what I heard. It took all the control I had ever needed to muster to keep myself from laughing so hard that I would have to actually sit down to keep from falling over. It was pure drunkinese and a little bit of word salad, but the parts that made sense went a little something like "So...I like totally respect you and our friendship and like all that sisterhood shit...And it's doen;t matter that you ...like...fucked him and all...I'm soooo over that...because you mean more to me than him...because were like...sisters!" Then somethings that I couldn't understand then watching them teeter on 5 inch manolo knock offs and try and fix what was left of what was once perfect make-up. I actully felt better about myself. In my crappy jeans and tee shirt and barely there make-up. Because it made me relize that deep down, we all are just a mess.


Anonymous said...

A variety of comments follow:
Congrats on setting a date. That means you are healing properly and without complications. That is a very, very good thing.
As far as the drunken chicks go...I have discovered that I am somehow a drunk magnet. Drunks love to talk to me (probably because I'm too polite to tell them to fuck off). I really need to work on my drunk repelling skills.
Weather: You might be interested to know it down to -6F here last night.


painter in hiding said...

Well the weather here is compleatly fucked. It was 75 yesterday...and 40 today. Is that a sign of the coming apocalypse?