So That Sucked

If you're following me on Twitter you know that I was in a car accident this weekend. The car accident was with an uninsured driver who hit me while I was turning out of my driveway. The saddest part of the story would be the fact that I was all dressed up and wearing really cute shoes. Really cute shoes that went to waste that night as I turned right around, went home, replaced fancy dress with pajama pants and drank a lot of wine. A LOT. I did that the next day but the wine was replaced with wine coolers as my friend came by to keep me company and boost my spirits....with Twilight: New Moon. Internet, it totally worked. That movie is fun when you're sitting in your underpants sippin' on some sweet Bartles and James.

Unfortunately during the accident I jacked my back up and have been in, how do you say it delicately, shit tons of fucking pain. Today I had to go to urgent care to have it checked out per request of my insurance company. Dudes, my doctor was a Russian midget. You CAN NOT make this shit up. You can also not make up the fact that he asked me to draw out my accident for him so that he could understand what happened better (I swear he was a cohort of Geico's). Apparently my drawing wasn't good. In fact apparently my drawing skills are that of a 3 year old with poor hand eye coordination. When a Russian midget says this to you while you are in pain, well, let's just say there was waving of the arms and not nice words. The midget clued in that I planned to squish him like a Triscuit and gave me a prescription for muscle relaxers. This brings us to my most fantastic discovery ever: I really like muscle relaxers.

I like them even better when I have a whole big bottle full and a plane ticket for Vegas in the morning. Wheeeeee!

Fantastic Life Decisions

On Monday I took a spinning class. On Monday, I injured myself at said spinning class. Let this full gravity of this sink in. I injured myself. On a stationary bike. I'll wait while you finishing laughing.

So there I am sweaty, cursing profusely and doing the part of class where you stand up on the bike and pedal real fast like. (For those of you who have never taken a spinning class, close your eyes and imagine hell. It's kind of like that except sweatier. ) Suddenly my right shoe comes unclipped and my whole body flings forward at warp speed right into the handle bar. It hurt. A lot. But because at my core I am the most competitive person in the history of the world I clipped my shoe back in and went back to pedaling. It was only after class that I was able to check out my leg and discover a welt the size of a baby's head. Well, a small baby, but still. The welt is now purple and green and I think really adds a certain touch of class to all of my outfits.

But let's really look at this. I got injured when dancing in Vegas. I got injured during physical therapy. I got injured on a motherfucking stationary bike. And yet? Next weekend I am still planning on going skydiving.

Maybe.

Possibly.

I mean, when else am I going to get the chance to weep and urinate on another human who is strapped to me at 12,500 feet?

A Scene From the Day

Ava: I just flirted with Keanu Reeves!

Me: Of course you did! That's amazing.

Ava: Seriously. How's your night?

Me: Me? Oh I discovered that the 3rd and 4th Cutting Edge sequels are pretty good but the 2nd is the weakest.

Ava: (silence)

Me: So.... should I just call a spade and spade and buy another cat?

Ava: (nodding)

And that my friends is how you spend a Sunday.

So, Um, Hi

Apparently I haven't blogged for a week. This is due to A) moving and living in box city, USA B) starting new job and freaking out about it and C) the head cold attack. Ergo, silence. But, I have conquered week one of the new gig and my house is now 90% box free. The head cold is still here but that's because I haven't slept and keep going out. You see there are these things called 'bars' and my friends keep inviting me to them.

The conversations going like this:

Friends (usually Ava): Hey! Let's go grab dinner and a drink!

Me: I should really stay home, I'm still not feeling great and it's Tuesday.

F.U.A: Um... yeah, but wine kills germs right? So, drinking and eating with me is kind of the same as taking antibiotics.

Me: You make a valid argument, I'll see you in 20.

AND SCENE.

And this is why I'm still sick a week later. It's also made for a super great first impression on my coworkers as my nose is falling off and I keep sniffling. Sexy, I know. Try not to all claw through your computers trying to get to me. This week I am however determined to get healthy. That's right, dammit. Healthy. And I won't go out. Except Wednesday for the scheduled happy hour and rollerskating (I KNOW). Oh and Friday for my dinner plans. And Saturday for my house warming party.

Fuck. I guess I'll just be know as Sniffles Girl at work. Trust me when I say I've been called significantly worse.