Jun 23, 2012

Dear Sanity, You Said You'd Call...

I wanted to take a moment to publicly declare that I am forgoing the summer of 2012 and you'll find out why below.

For the people that run in my social circle, summer means bbq's, cottages, road trips, drunken nights on patios, and reckless sex with strangers. You know, the typical activities of the season. I on the other hand, could care less that summer is upon us. And no, it's not just because my thighs stick together in any weather above 10 degrees. Nor is it because I suffer from hyperhidrosis (I'm self diagnosed but I sweat like whore at the thought of the sun). And it's certainly not because I worry about people seeing how much facial hair I actually have when the sun hits my face.

The real reason why I'm boycotting summer is because I am in a cast. You heard it here first folks, I broke my left cankle (*cankle -categorized under "what the fuck" category on Web MD. Basically your calf ate your ankle). Oh, AND I managed to dislocate all my toes from the bones in the centre of my foot. Don't be jealz. (My new word for jealous for those intellectuals out there.)

The 1% of me that enjoys telling a white lie now and again wanted to post that this tragedy occurred while enjoying a super simple hike up Mount Kilimanjaro with George Clooney and friends, but the other 99% of me said "speak the truth slut."  And the truth is I made a less than graceful exit falling down the stairs at a SINGLES event. Yup. That's right, looking for some p in my v the love of my life in brand new high heels.

I could bore you with the details of my surgery and my tell you about my weekly Oscar award winning performances in the fracture clinic at the hospital, but I'll spare you... this time. I have however, discovered some hidden talents/developed some creepy habits over the past 8 weeks that I feel are noteworthy at this point. 
  • I talk to myself in a british accent for about 20% of my day. Alone
  • I can grow leg hair like a mountain lion. 
  • I discovered my love for Justin Bieber. Yup. I said it ( I realize being a 31 year old woman and obsessing over an 18 year old boy is very Mary-Kay Letourneau of me but the heart wants what the heart wants and for right now it's Biebs. 
  • I can almost rap the entire song of "Juicy" by Biggy without you-tubing the lyrics. I usually hold rehearsals in my bed at around 4pm right after I teach myself how to Dougie during the commercials on Dr. Phil.
  • I can take 70's porno bush to a whole new level. 
  • I can hold my pee for about 5 hours.
  • I can type the most wittiest tweets and never ever get a response. From anyone. Did twitter break?
  • I can cry for 3 hours straight and not get a headache and successfully only use one tissue.
  • I can eat about 25 meatballs and not feel sick. (One of my personalities dared the other one, don't judge. We got bored)
  • I can take 8 Percocet and drink 3 glasses of wine and feel great. (In fact I can stay awake for 48 hours straight) 
  • I don't need a hair tie for a pony tail. The grease holds it up just fine. 
*Side note, I've also convinced myself that despite the fact that all my windows and doors are locked in my apartment, there is someone that sleeps in my shower and will kill me between midnight and sunrise...every night. I only type this so this can be used when I become a Dateline Murder Mystery 2 part special. Just sayin'.

Those are just few of the things I've discovered about myself during this hell-ish experience. The rest I haven't come to terms with sharing as I fear it may be considered NOT socially acceptable behaviour. I have another 9 weeks to go before I can start walking again so who knows. Maybe by the next post i'll be doing heroin. That should spice shit up a bit. 


Smooches, 
Nanners