Back Rebellion
So, now it marks 24 hours that I've been lying on the floor in my underwear with a milk jug full of piss in the corner.
I know, you'd think it was Saturday night at the Charnas house again... Or rather, Sunday morning. Half-crushed beer cans lying about, empty boxes of wine, pieces of rope lying here and there and all around the queer, ripped panties and tufts of hair blowing about the room, and me waking up with my face stuck to the floor and a cigarette butt stuck in my ear and a Twister Mat half jammed in my ass.
But no.
I've thrown my back out again. I was doing something really, REALLY dangerous and exciting. I'm not sure if I should even tell you, it's so scary!
Okay, since you're pressuring me, I'll tell you.
I was putting a tee-shirt in a bag.
I KNOW! I KNOW!! I was just ASKING for trouble putting that tee-shirt in that bag! WHAT. WAS. I. THINKING???
The truth of the matter is, I was working out in the yard the day before for a good 5 hours, AND worked out on top of that. I stretched that night before bed (AND NO! NOT MY HOLE!... MOM!), but yesterday morning I did not stretch. And I was rushing around doing shit.
Big mistake.
I have to stretch multiple times a day, (AND NO! NOT MY HOLE!... MOM, STOP IT!!) otherwise, my lower back decides to TOTALLY FUCK ME OVER!
THANKS A LOT, LOWER BACK!! YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!! WELL.... You FUCKING AREA JUST ABOVE MY ASSHOLE!!
I can't believe I just yelled at my lower back.
Actually, yes I can. I've yelled at my nose before.
And my elbow. I've been known to get in a BIG OLE BRAWL with my elbow before.
And my ears. I've yelled at my ears pretty bad before too. But, that's rather counter-productive. They just start ringing. The left one says to the right one, "JUST START RINGING! THAT'LL SHUT THIS JACKASS UP!!"
And it usually does.
Now, my penis? I've NEVER yelled at my penis before. Except maybe I've strongly suggested to him to behave in public from time to time. He just stands there until I smack him around for awhile, then he hangs his head in shame...
And my poor balls. Whenever I've had to give my peep a strong talking to, the balls are always such innocent bystanders looking at me like, "What? We're just hanging out. Don't be looking at us!" And they try to hide behind some hair.
So anyway, I'm lying on the floor, my back going in and out of spasms. I've had to pee into a milk jug because I can't stand up. The milk was all gone, if you're wondering. And then, poor Will has to dump it.
It's bumming me out. I've been in really great shape this year (up until now). And I had to cancel going into work yesterday. And I believe that slipping into those leather pants tomorrow night and pulling a rickshaw around shirtless at Pandemonium is out of the question, DAMN IT!!!
I was extremely excited to still be asked to perform shirtless, let alone be a little bitch pulling around a rickshaw.
And then, I was even MORE excited to tell you all about it. But, NNNOOOOO....
SO, as I was lying here yesterday, I thought, what would make me happy? 'Cause I'm pissed.
And I thought of this guy:
He made me happy some years ago. And he STILL makes me happy...
And the original dudes? I never knew who they were, but here they are, looking all of 15 and awkward with their shirts all unbuttoned down to their navels hanging off one another...
It's that kind of uncomfortable music video that only Romania can come up with. But still. The song makes me happy.
And frustrated. Because I can't really move to it.
DAMN IT AGAIN!! YOU STUPID, SELFISH, PIECE OF SHIT LOWER BACK!! IT'S NOT ALL ABOUT YOU!!
If I were to be honest right now, I'd have to say that I'd rather be yelling at my arm hair. I could just shave them off if they were getting out of line. Or my penis. I MUCH rather be yelling at my penis. And we've already established that I've NEVER done that before. Although, I shouldn't want to kill the messenger. 'Cause when it comes down to it, the balls are much more guilty than they'd admit.
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