Since many of my constituents have expressed an interest in AMG's broken rib and how it came about, I feel compelled to provide a heart-warming, poignant story that is both funny and touching. It will instantly become a best-selling book and will make me rich beyond my wildest dreams, leaving me free to quit my job and blog to my heart's content.
In that vein, then...
"There was once a boy named Harry. He had an unusual lightening-shaped scar on his forehead that he had gotten as a baby when the evil Lord Voldemort killed his parents."
Hmm...that sounds vaguely familiar. Have I heard that storyline before somewhere?
Also, it's not true. Harry Potter had nothing to do with my broken rib. Apparently, and I did not know this before, the ingredients for a broken rib are as follows:
1. Previously cracked rib
2. Alcohol
3. Salsa dancing
First, crack a rib by having a horrific cough that has lasted for months and months. It helps if you hate milk so your bones probably aren't the strongest to begin with (but, in my defense, I love ice cream, which is practically just as good for you as milk is).
Then, get drunk and have lots of fun. Notice that several people have started to salsa dance in the living room and join in, forgetting about the cracked rib.
Have someone who is unaware of the cracked rib grab your hand and twirl you around. Feel excruciating pain as you experience the pure joy of having two pieces of bone that were previously connected rip apart.
Pure joy, I tell you!
Actually, I think I toughed it out pretty well. My poor, long suffering boyfriend had to deal with the worst of it, and was wonderful. And I learned this great trick! Whenever I wanted a little extra compassion and someone asked how it happened, I would cast my eyes downward, glance sideways at my boyfriend, and mumble "I, uh, really would rather not talk about it." People are terrifically sympathetic whenever domestic violence is implied!
Haha, I kid. Lying is nothing to joke about, people, really.
Tuesday, March 29, 2005
Try as I might, I can't think of a clever title.
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8 comments:
That's it?!?!
I was really really really (really) REALLY looking forward to the lurid tale of your sexual exploits with Sarah Silverman and how, in a moment of intense g-spot passion you both tumbled out of the bed naked into a vast expanse of conveniently placed Jell-O where you both decided to videotape the moment for posterity only you slipped and lost your footing right where lime-green meets strawberry at exactly the moment of climax and cracked your rib on a fine selection of adult toys.
Either way, it sucks that you hurt your rib. I've broken one before and it really stinks.
Now, if you could just post that video...
Clever Titles:
"AMG's Rib"
"Breaking News"
"Everybody Salsa"
"The Night I Slept With Sarah Silverman"
I WISH it was the Jell-O scenario...then I wouldn't have minded breaking it. It would have been completely worth it, all for a moment of slippery fun with Ms. Silverman.
AMG
In college, I watched my roommate fall out of a tree after loosing a drinking contest with another friend. She survived with a sprained ankle and something to be teased about for the rest of her natural years.
One of my roomates climbed and then fell out of a tree after an embarassing end to a drinking contest with another friend. So she lost her dinner, then contest and then a fight with gravity and had a sprained ankle to show for it.
By having as a title your statement that you couldn't think of a clever title despite your best efforts, you inadvertently (or intentionally?) ended up with a clever title after all. A kind of circular, paradoxical logic there.
"Curcular. Like a carosel. Round and round, up and down."
I'm so glad it wasn't that Luke Wilson hit you or something. Because then I'd have to recommend that you END that relationship, and I know you don't want to.
Mend up right quick there. And thanks for hanging out at Peacebang.
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