Sunday, August 25, 2013

drunk crutching.

... your sunday sillies ...

I didn't think it out too clearly.

Well, the party I was invited to was actually a hang out with the entire village at the Isla Gas Station.

Party At The Gas Station!!!!!

It happens every weekend.

Only this time I was on crutches.

Some people were helpful, some people would just stand in my way, while staring at the out of place gringa.

Then there were the washrooms.

Remember when I told you about thighs of steel from not being able to sit on the loo?

Alright.  So, now that I only have one thigh ...

... ummmm ...

It was something short of a comedy routine.

This time, it was a task for my triceps.

They were shaking about while I tried my best to balance and hover over a toilet, all the while keep the crutches from slipping under the neighbouring stall, then falling on the urine infused floor with my shorts around my ankles.

At least, they were giving out napkins for toilet paper this time.

Not that it mattered.

By the time I was able to balance on one foot, reach in to my shorts pocket for the paper with the one hand that WASN'T holding me up with the other crutch, and hover just a little less to be able to do a functional reach around, piddle had dribbled down my leg.


I was wearing white shorts.

Next came the task of wobbling back through all the people on the dance floor.

Now, this is hard enough for someone who has two feet.

Now, add in crutches.

Now, add in a pint of beer in my system.

Now, add in the assault of the speaker in your ear as you try to get past the distortion as quickly as possible, but not so fast that your crutches come out from underneath you, because the floor is slippery from spilled beer, and you have a frantic femme.

My balance is not so great at the best of times.

Alcohol will make that worse, crutches will make it even harder.

But I did it.

I finally made it back to my seat, sweating once more from the task I accomplished.

I was quite exhausted from the whole scene, and it made me not want to put any more liquid into my bladder.

Every single person who asked what happened immediately says, "Moto accident?"

Seems about right.

With the amount of people who drink and moto, there are so many of them who lose a limb on an average day.

To have a broken ankle from a moto accident isn't unheard of.

No, I do special stunts.

I like to fall off a wall, tearing a ligament in my ankle.

Now I just have to be sure that while I'm on crutches, I don't incur any more injuries.

The humiliation of piddle dribble was enough.

I don't need my 2nd cast of my life time on an arm because I slipped and fell because of crutches.

No, I stopped drinking quite early to be sure I didn't have a rebound injury.

Drunk crutching.

I don't recommend it.

i know how to adequately fuel my body


  1. When managing to use the restroom becomes an accomplishment, you are either living an extremely interesting or an extremely uninteresting life.

    in your case, I'm going with the former.

    1. lmao! yes. the bathroom is an accomplishment. so is making breakfast, only to have my rat bastard dog eat it! fucking hell. i am not happy today.


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