Who Do I Think I Am??

This one's about single clutch crutch groovin'.

30DBC PROMPT: "Life is full of incidences which are embarrassing when they happen, but become more and more funny as time goes on. Share one such story."

Yeah, I'm about to say it. What's pop-and-lockin', people? It's Funny Friday! Or Fact Friday! Or, in my world, it's Not As Funny As I Think, And That's A Fact! Friday.

See, around these parts, I prefer not to have to beat a dead horse. However, if I were a horse, I would've been studded out and shot a long time ago. Luckily, my racing career doesn't affect my livelihood. That all being said, there's little in the coming paragraphs you probably haven't heard before, only this time it's got a slightly different stink to it.

Embarrassment is jumping over chopped up and burning wood, failing to stick a proper landing, dusting yourself off, standing up, walking away like you didn't just fall ass over tea kettle, and crumbling to the ground in pain because you seriously can't support 145lbs using just one leg on one side of your body.

Funny is being able to joke about it three months after it happened, even if you still can't walk.

Consider the dead horse flogged for another Friday.

BCF PROMPT: "Are you the type of person who lives for the journey or for the destination?"

Count me among those who are down for the journey. The destination is only a part of the trip...life doesn't not happen (excuse the double-negative) because you're on your way and you haven't gotten to where you're intended to go yet. Sometimes the destination is anti-climactic. How many Christmas mornings have you woken up absolutely believing your Santa Claus was gonna hook you up strong with a pony, but all you got were more socks? You spent all of November and most of December being good and hoping, hoping, hoping. Nothing. What a waste of being good!

It's all about the road trip, and where it ends be damned. Break windows, smash cars, fall in love, hard work, spin heads, make friends and maybe a few bucks...no matter, 'cuz in the end all that stays is your rep when you're six feet deep. All that remains is the tale of how you got there. Believe that.

MUSICAL BREAK!!

Still feelin' old school today.

VITAL STATS:

From the "Don't trust the sender" files: As if it's bad enough that I'm at the local library nearly every day as it is, I also communicate with them via email. I'm fine with that, as most of the people who work here are neither friendly nor worth my communication efforts. I get an email reciept when I borrow an item, and I get a reminder a day before it's due. If I want something that's available at another branch, I can fill out an electronic request, and be notified by email when it arrives. This system works well for me.

Today, I received an interesting email from the library. The subject line said: "Your request can...". I was intrigued. Was the library trying to share some new information with me? Maybe teach me about a new service?

No. It was yet another way for this forsaken building to build me up and break my heart by effing me out of another free service funded by local taxpayers. Apparently, the subject line in full read "Your request cannot be processed". Or, what I hear: "We're not going to the other library in another county to get the book you wanted to read last November, and we're gonna pretend you never wanted to read it. Don't bother relying on us for anything, you loser." Effing jerks.

Well, I don't have great news. The doctor had my favorite nurse take the stitches out of my ankle today, and I still can't tell if she's pregnant or not. Not that I had anything to do with it if she was...I certainly have not had relations with that, or any other, woman in a long time. But it's killing me right before she walks out of the room and asks me if I have any questions for her not to wonder aloud if she's pregnasty or not. But I know there's lines you just don't cross, even for someone who's a habitual line-crosser, and that's one of the few I won't attempt.

Oh, and for those of you keeping score at home, I still can't walk on two legs. Due to pain, soreness, and the right amount of swelling still present, I'm to gradually work myself off the crutch and out of the boot. And I have two weeks to agonize over accomplish this. Then, on April Fools' Day, of all days, will I find out if I'm going to need physical therapy or not. At this point (and I'm surprised it hadn't occurred to me sooner), I'm tempted to go home, take off the boot and my sock, and see if my foot sticks to the fridge due to any magnetic pull the screws that are still in there might have. If there are any science nerds out there who care to oblige my wonder before I further embarrass myself, I'd appreciate the input.

And that's where I'm tying the knot on this balloon. Too much excitement for me to handle, that's for sure. Stay true to yourselves, and each other. Peace, and GOODNIGHT NOW!!