Another Update From the Homefront

I didn't want to an update post again for awhile. My life is so mundane anyway, I didn't even think I would have an opportunity for a bit. But here I am again, sitting at my computer desk loopy from pain meds with a trash bag duct taped around my left hand. Why you ask? Have I been channeling Howard Hughes? No, dear reader. I have not gone off the deep end and decided that Kleenex boxes were the only suitable protection from germs. I am just a giant, horrible and desperately uncoordinated klutz.

Exhibit A:

In my defense, the stairs were a lie. This happened a little after 10pm last night after watching the most recent episode of  "True Blood" at Sara's house (which I can hardly remember because of all the bleeding).  I fell, as I so often do and I sliced my ring finger open on a porch column support. It sucked majorly. Luckily, Sara became my "Knight in Green Tube Top Armor" and drove me and Matt to the ER. Then Dr. "This is really going to suck for you" stuck a needle the size of a dildo into the surrounding wound flesh and continued to do so for a good 20 seconds.

"Baby, you know I treat you real good"

After that was done, it really didn't suck so bad. Except for the second anesthesia injection for the last bit. He gave me the option to keep powering through it or take the shot. I asked him if he was serious. He assured me he was. Now, I have never been sewn shut with a needle that looks like a fishing lure. But at that point I did know what it was like to be medically violated by Dr. Cenobite. I opted for the needle. It hurt...bad.


After I was all patched up, Matt, Myself, Sara, Shereya, Ryan and Spencer went to the bar until closing time. We all got hit on by creepy dudes, but Shereya got the worst of it. Some fat creepy guy rocking some mutton chops decided that her ear looked like a cozy home for his tongue. He then took his shirt off in the bar and cried into his beer. Some other dude tried to snatch me up and take me to Florida. And everyone in the bar sang along to "Rehab's Sittin' at a Bar".

 I didn't feel my finger anymore. But I do now. It fucking blows. And since our hot water had been off for four days, I hadn't been able to shower either. So Matt fashioned me with a couple shopping bags and some duct tape. I managed to wash my hair with my stump and I am no worse for wear. I hope someone gets a mild chuckle out of it. 

Fear the nub!!!!

So here I am. All loopy and in pain. But I am sewed up and alive. And clean. Now to relax, eat pizza, drink a beer and get some sleep. Some more finger pictures, for your enjoyment.

That white stuff? Yeah, that's my fat.