All jacked up
I have another injury story for y'all.
On Saturday, Dave and I went to his friends' bi-monthly poker party (the guys get together roughly once a month, but every other month or so, when it's at Jay's house, girlfriends and wives also go and, well, everyone gets pretty damn drunk and jumps in the pool). I, of course, felt it would be rude NOT to partake in the social activities of the day and, being a good guest, politely took every Jello shot the hostess offered me.
Yes, my mama raised me right, she sho' did.
Anyway, the drinking started at 11 am (don't worry, Mom, no one was driving anywhere any time soon). By, oh, noon, I was feeling pretty damn good. By 2 pm, I was attempting to change into some bathing suit bottoms. (Not mine, even. The hostess, Mel's, who is quite tiny and fit. Luckily, I am also quite little on the bottom, so I could fit into them. However, Mel is much smaller on the top, in every possible way, so I was keeping my tshirt on.)
Well, I'm not the most graceful of individuals in the BEST of circumstances, let alone when I have many hours of drinking under my belt. So, somewhere along the line, as I was changing into these bikini bottoms, my feet got all tangled up and I fell on my ass.
And I'm talking cartoon-style, like I had slipped on a banana peel or something. My feet shot straight out from under me, I was airborne for a while and I came straight down on my tailbone.
"That's sure gonna hurt," one of the girls in the bedroom with me said matter-of-factly, "once you're not drunk and stuff."
And hurt it did, starting on Sunday morning. And it STILL hurts now, on Wednesday night. It hurts to walk. To sit down. To stand up. I've been hobbling around like a little old lady. It hurts even MORE, four days later, than it did when it first happened (mostly because I'm not, you know, "drunk and stuff").
Seriously, I do believe I broke my ass.