So I’ve received some saddy-pants texts and e-mails asking where the blog-posting has gone. Well, I’ll tell you where — it has gone to the land of shadows and sadness and Mordor and doom and poop and awfulness.
See, here this was going to be a HILARIOUS post about physical therapy, and how apparently one of my key problems is that my butt is underdeveloped. Yeah, that’s right. The nice therapist lady pushed and pulled on my leg, then had me push and pull against her, and when we got to the butt exercises, she said, “OK, go!”
“Um, I AM going,” I said.
“Huh. Your butt is weak.”
I’d giggle if I didn’t want to cry.
So excuse me if today’s post isn’t all clowns and helicopter hats, because I am PISSED. What was the first thing I did when I got out of bed this morning? Well, aside from getting rid of my morning boner (???) and hopping into the shower, I cried as I put on my makeup. Yes. Cried. True story.
Because MOTHERFUCK, people. I can’t run Boston, which is bad enough, but what if I just can’t run a marathon EVER AGAIN? Like, I had been going jogging for a few days but then it started to hurt and this physical therapist lady, lovely as she is, doesn’t appear to be able to do a goddamn thing for me, or even to know exactly why my knee is fucked up, or how to fix it, or IF she can fix it.
And I love you readers, I really do, and ordinarily I would tell you to publicize the blog and send it to alllll your friends and up my hit count so some awesome media organization can discover me and sweep me off to a land of creativity and employment and job security. But today I’m so angry I could just spit.
So I promise better posts after today. But until then…
YOU WILL READ THIS POST AND YOU WILL LIKE IT BECAUSE IT’S ALL I CAN DO AT THIS POINT TO EVEN WRITE ANYTHING, PERIOD, GODDAMMIT. I AM GETTING A MASTER’S THAT I DON’T REALLY WANT, IT TURNS OUT; I AM NOT SLEEPING; I AM WRITING THE WORST THESIS EVER WHICH IS APPARENTLY TWICE AS LONG AS ANY OTHER SCHOOL REQUIRES; I HAVE A TRULY MINDBLOWING CASE OF JAWLINE ACNE; I HAVE NO ROMANTIC PROSPECTS; I UNCLOGGED THE BATHROOM DRAIN LAST NIGHT AT MIDNIGHT AND IT SMELLED LIKE ASS. AND ALL I WANT TO DO IS RUN AND RELIEVE ALL THE STRESS AND MAKE THE PAIN GO AWAY AND THE UNICORNS COME BACK AND I CAN’T DO IT AND I JUST WANT TO DIE THE END LOVE AND KISSES, DJ.