Tuesday, January 23, 2007


You know, being a tall guy, I don't like to fall. I don't like to fall because I have much further distance to travel before smashing into the earth. And when I make contact, it hurts like the dickens. Well, yesterday, despite there being still about 1.7 miles of eight inch-deep snow between my front door and work, I set out in my ol' Doc Martens with ten extra minutes of grace. I'm a walker. It's not a religious thing, it's not a economical thing. It's a health thing...I walk.

So I'm about half a mile from the house and I'm trying to negotiate a terribly difficult intersection which was packed down into a nice iceberg the day before, it froze overnight and now I'm scooting across, trying desperately not to crack my head open. I reach the middle of the street and I feel my feet starting to glide outwards on me. Trouble.

I recover, take a few more hurried steps and it only took two steps for my feet to fly out from under me. While I was up there looking down at the earth, I thought of a lot of things. I thought about how I really resented being treated so badly at Subway when I asked to have my sub toasted. The girl just flipped. I thought about how I should've just let her finish making my sandwich and then just walk out. I thought about the fact that I really don't know what gas is going for these days. I thought about how I should listen to my wife more. I thought about how I like a frank covered in ketchup, onions and sauerkraut. I thought about MF Doom and why no one picks this dude up yet Danger Mouse is winning Grammys. I thought about...


Oh, the pain. I was lucky I had gripped my backpack because if I had put an arm out to brace my fall, I'd be using my tongue to type. My hip burned so bad on impact. Embarrassed and, moreover, quite pissed off, I act as quick as I can to recover and be on my way. However, when getting up, in my anger, I grab a handful of snow and frustratingly chunk it and in that sideways shift of body weight, I go down again.

Yeah, I'm an all-star today. I'm not sure what I yelled because I had my iPod on, but I'm pretty sure it wouldn't have aired on regular cable without some edits.

I'm waiting to see what the bruise will look like because it hasn't surfaced yet, but I'm pretty sure it's gonna be rad. My neighbor Brad told me he had a bruise he received falling off a barstool and said mine would look much like his. I eat too much red meat to bruise like this dude. He drinks beer and eats Oreos. Nonetheless, here's Brad's bruise.

Happy Tuesday, people. Contact your local record executive and ask him/her to release some music to purchase.


sarahsmile3 said...

Put some tussin on it. Or windex, if you wanna go the Greek route.

Chrissy said...

I'm scared... for many reasons. #1 - does your lovely wife know you were outside taking mostly-nude pictures of "Brad"??? #2 - you're gonna post a picture of your rump in it's rainbow colors once the bruise sets in, aren't you?

Anonymous said...

I'm deeply disturbed by the Brad picture.