One Day This Will Be Funny

Laugh, not cry. One day this will be funny.

I keep chanting that in my head. The scooter broke down, I broke my ankle, and today as I was trying to get out of the bathtub with one foot and some secondhand crutches-I fell and chipped my front tooth. I look like Lloyd Christmas in Dumb and Dumber.

One day this will be funny.

Until then, I plan on getting drunk with my best friend-the salt to my pepper. I plan on letting the dog lay on me all day on the couch. I plan on sending flirty texts to my Partner in Crime that well, I may be falling apart-but my vagina is still working(maybe not in those exact words).

One day this will be funny. But today I will get drunk. Please don't judge.

Choose Your Own Adventure

I broke my ankle.

And that's not the worst part.

I don't even have a good story about how it happened. So, here's a "Choose Your Own Adventure" list so my mundane injury will not seem so embarrassingly lame(pun intended).

A.) While scaling a rickety metal fire escape in 6" heels to rescue a Labrador/terrier mix from a burning building, I successfully rescued Captain Kirk, and it wasn't until my return trek up to help a small box turtle in a lovely vintage terrarium that my heel got caught in one of the slats of fire escape. I wrenched my leg free and saved Tim Jr. It wasn't until the adrenaline slowed half an hour later when I, and half the Austin fire department were having a beer at the local tavern, that I noticed that my ankle was at a skewed angle, mottled in Seattle sky shade bruises. I had indeed received an injury for my heroic deeds.

B.) It was a Wednesday evening, fully dull and meaningless with it's extra "d". Sitting there thinking that life is short and time moves fast I grabbed all the cash in my couch cushions and made a brake for the nearest train tracks. That's the Texas B line where I'm at, and readily I waited for that tremor from the rails and the sheer violent shriek of the whistle to signal my ride to the unknown was approaching. Soon enough that train sped closer, closer, with steal nerves and heroic trepidation I ran parallel to the ore plated serpent until with a deft grab I hauled myself and my pocket of cash aboard. I rode rail through sunset southern ranges, gambled on over maize-filled Mexican fields, skirted sea and surf with only a slivered moon's illumination. Come 5am I determined it was time to head back in time for work at 9, so I cartwheeled off and shimmied up the next clinking caravan heading north. Dawn broke with promise over fields of those famous Texas Poppies-red heads bobbing in the breeze. As I neared my destination I readied for the jump that was to come-somersaulting down an embankment and arriving with not but a tumbleweed hair net to show for it. If I hadn't tripped on that empty bottle of Lone Star on my way up the embankment, no one would have been the wiser-except for me, having learned that Poppies purse their lips to the night, something you find out on midnight train rides.

C.) I owed $500 large to the Austin Mafia and was late on a payment.

Well, hope that gave you some good options as to how I broke my ankle. Remember kids, when you "Choose Your Own Adventure" your risk is your reward.

No Good Deed, EVER AGAIN

So much has happened since my last post, but as this blog is simply a site for people to read when they have nothing better to do-and judging from last year's popularity of Honey Badger on Youtube, and this month's obsession with The Hunger Games-I am sure it has not been missed by the vast majority.

Ahem.

I was recently sharply schooled in the old adage: "No good deed goes unpunished".

I received by post a very imposing and official declaration that I have been charged CRIMINALLY and there has been a warrant posted for my arrest. Having been expecting "Thank You" cards from my Nieces, not only was I disappointed, but I was thoroughly annoyed at the candor in which the word CRIMINAL was being bandied about. A diligent sift through the sordid decree led me only to a case number I could reference when filing my plea of guilty or not guilty. I take offence to this since I make it a personal vendetta against the Catholic Church never to feel guilt and, secondly, had I committed a crime I detest that the first thing I would feel about it-having been caught-would be guilt! Ha! Far from it! Judging from the government systems I see running day-to-day I take it as a matter of hurt pride that they could have found me out in a crime that undoubtedly I SHOULD have been deft enough to hide! So, the letter should read- "Check one and return with proper postage(circa 2012 that's about $3.15) -"Responsible" or "Not" for ______________ criminal trespass.

It wasn't until I called and went through 2 different Marilyn's and a Jen that I found out what they were wanting me to feel guilty about.

Parking in a handicap stall.

NOW! Before you start judging me and touting how SHAME is the box I should check-let me first describe the circumstance to which I received this citation.

7 months ago-Texas law enforcement is obviously working at a southern draaaaawl-I had recently moved to Austin from Europe and drove my small scooter up to the grocery store to get some bare move in basics(sponges, hand soap, everything to make guacamole). This grocer is quite busy at all times and there is never enough parking for everyone. Knowing this, I did not want to take up an entire parking space for my minuscule moped so I parked in the hash marks between rows-NOT STALLS-rows. I was squeezed in between 2-3 shopping carts and one of those plastic buggy cars for kids that also has a grocery basket on it for children that can't make it through one of the most colorful and wildly displayed places in the world without entertainment. Definitely no room here for a full size van with a wheelchair capacity. Neither was it anywhere NEAR a handicap stall that a poor 90year old abuelita would need as she made a quick stop for New Flaming Hot Gruyere Cheetos.

In trying to save more car space for all those Ford F 1-50 Texas Edition trucks, I committed a crime so heinous as to incite CRIMINAL charges and a WARRANT for my ARREST.

Needless to say, the only sure thing to do is walk everywhere and never open my mail again.