Look you've had a shit week haven't you. Or a great one. Or an average one. I don't know, there's tones of you out there, I can't predict all of your weeks and how they have been in relation to excreetment defication - I can't even spell either of those words, let alone predict them, but I'll tell you this - you think YOU got it bad? Well check this out - I got it bad TOO!
Check that out - we're the same - assuming that you answered yes to that above question, but if not, then I've already explained how I can't possibly predict all your weeks, and I hate having to repeat myself, so I won't tell you again about how I can't predict all of your weeks and their relationship to feces, I won't even HINT at saying that again.
The point is that, hi it's Dave here, CEO, head writer, guy who's never eaten an entire phone booth (the copper wire is too hard to chew), head copper miner, and minding me own business about the copper crises leader of Fleeting Forever, and I got it, and how have I got it? I hear you ask? Bad - that's how. And I'll tell you how...
I fell down this week.
To the ground that is.
Physically I mean.
Like I don't mean metaphorical or anything, I literally fell down.
To the ground.
Here's what happened.
I was jogging along the street, racing from the supermarket to the vet to get back to my girlfriend and my cat, who was only getting a check up (she's fine - the kitty that is vets give medical care to animals, not humans, NEVER humans, EVER), but I'd had to nick out to get a toothbrush for the examination, and I was worried about her so I was running, as I'm not a self-involved person, I'm someone who exclusively thinks of others and never myself, and so when others need me I don't even think about me, I just get what they need and get back to them FAST, with no self thought at all, and I caught a reflection of myself and couldn't help but think 'hey Dave, you're looking pretty rock n roll today, you could be in a band, because you're so cool', as you do, especially when you're looking kind of rock n roll, like perhaps you could be in a band, because you're so cool, on the day you see your reflection.
An eighth of a second later I was on the ground.
My rare self love had cursed my foot to slip and lead my entire body right to the concrete - hard - and sure I got up again, but not before thinking somethings, including but not limited to:
- Holy fuck this is embarrassing, I hope not to many people saw that, DONT come and help if you saw, PLEASE, oh wait I mean...
- FUCKING OUCH!
- Well, just OUCH really said it all if I'm being honest, I didn't NEED to add the fucking.
- But who turns down a fucking, you know what I mean?
- Then again, I'm currently on the ground and in pain, plus very embarrassed.
- Plus don't think TOO much, there's still the original planned list to write for this blog, so don't get stuck on this one too long.
- But seriously OUCH.
- No no no, FUCKING OUCH.
- I won't turn down a fucking.
- What's that red stuff.
- Oh shit, that's from my insides, oh.
Then I got up and bolted back to the vet where I nearly passed out on the floor, and the vet tried to give ME medical attention instead of my kitty, didn't she fucking hear me think to myself on the street for no one to help me please? Some people right?
Three days later and my severe shoulder pain is still kind of sore, and my minor leg pain is still noticeable occasionally, and my hand wound, the source of that red stuff, looks gross when I take the bandaids off, so I don't often, leaving it more moist and wet so that it's healing slower and grosser than need be.
So you think YOU got it bad? YOU don't! I do. Because I fell down. And it hurt please. And that makes me sad. Okay. So sod your shit week you shit heads!!
On the other hand, the fact I fell down this week excites me. And I'll tell you why
- The last time I fell down like this I was like 12, so that means I'm officially a kid again.
- I now no longer have palm prints, so any palm based crimes I need to commit are easy. Like check this out... if I ever want to steal a priceless work of art I can just palm it all the way home, and then when the cops come and find it and say 'you're under arrest', I can yell 'you ain't got nothing on me you damn copper, I don't have a single palm print on that whole painting!!!!' And after a long legal battle I'll probably only get time served! I'm a criminal genius. Woo ha ha!
- I'm in pain, which means I get to complain! Like watch this, I'm going to whine now, it shall be shrill and harsh, but I think you can take it, but if you can't fuck you, I'm the one who got it bad, and fuck you if you think you the one who got it bad - here I go, I'm about to start to whine - 'ouch, ouch, I hurt a bit, ouch, you don't have it bad, I got it bad! Ouch!'
- See, and that didn't hurt your feelings at all, because you feel sorry for me!
- Next time I lose a thimble or so of blood and only nearly pass out I know just the vet to go to!
- And I CAN go to a vet for my medical care, because I think I kinda look like a rock star in reflections sometimes, and rock stars can ANYTHING!
- Even ones that are clearly epic wimps.
- When I hug my cats they now stick to my gross moist hand.
So you think you got it bad, you DON'T, because I'm the one that's got it bad, not cause of the fall thing, because that was ace, but because I'm sick of minding my own business about the copper crises - so that ends now - 'I don't like the crises'. Boom. Now it's your business too. Oh and look now I CAN now also flawlessly spell excretment definicatuon - yay.
See, now don't we all feel better?
And now here is an artists impression of what my hand wound looks like under a microscope: