Crazymike100

  However, in my throes of ectasy for having a life(as well as a nice job as a pianist for a local restaurant that pays me very well.), I wound up jumping off a balcony onto a hill with a seventy five degree or so angle downward, effectively breaking my ankle and severing some ligaments and tendonds and such.  Which sucks.  But it's a good thing that it happened now and not two weeks ago, because I had two dancing parts for the locall production of Fiddler on the Roof.  But now I can't drive to work anymore, since it's required by law that you use your right foot.  And I can't.  Piano is still fine, but I HATE USING MY LEFT.  >_<  But it went snap, crackle pop, and it went really numb, which usually means there's something horribly wrong here.

  So I said my usual thing when I get hurt/nervous/turned on.  "Hey dudes?  I think I broke my _____.  Kiss it and make it better?"  followed by a suitable amount of pouting and lowerlip shaking.  After me mum drove me to Urgent Care and got me a brace a bottle of Vicodin, we went home, and I blogged about it on Facebook.  Search me.  It's crazymike100.

  So now I'm sitting here, missing going to the movies every day and going to the park to do gymnastics and scream at the footballers.  Because, really, football is one of the gayest sports ever.  That and wrestling.  Two men in a ring dressed in silk underwear fighting over a belt?  How is that any more manley than Ballet, where atleast the men can do a fucking split?  

And I say so because I got the most lovely tutu at a thrift store the other day.  I had to beat a small child away, but it was worth the claw marks to my face and neck, since I GOT IT FOR ONLY FIFTY CENTS.  HA!   aND GUESS WHAT i GOT FOR A DOLLAR?  

A wedding tuxedo, and it fit like it was made for me.  

If I was two feet fatter.

But I also got a wedding dress that fit nicely, it's too bad I'm giving it to my girlfriend.  We're getting married, and she wants us to look nice.  She says "Mike, there's no way you're going to be able to find something that will fit me in a thrift store.  We're going to take your royalty check from Fiddler, and we're going to go out and buy us some nice clothes, and it'll be just like old times!"  ♥  

  And I leave you on that note, because my ankle is about a seven on the Pain-o-meter, which means it's time for my narcotics.  Night!