Sheese, that was scary.
I turned 57 today, that's why, I'm a fucking geezer.
I know, people are going to say that isn't old and some folks are going to leave a comment basically calling me a young punk but I am here to tell you that 57 of my years is pretty much like 67 years for normal people.
I should have been dead at least twenty times by now but for some reason the good Lord is keeping me around for something.
Maybe just as an example of what not to do with your life, I dunno.
Anyways, for as much abuse I have dished out to my body over the years I'm really not in that bad of shape considering.
For one, I can still walk and I still have all my fingers and toes.
No small feat for what I have done for a living in the past and especially for what I do now, not to mention about fifty car wrecks and who knows how many motorcycle wrecks. Throw in some alcoholism, drug abuse and smoking cigarettes for 47 years just to make it interesting.
Shit, I even had a wooden structure collapse on my head once.
Broken bones, broken teeth, strains sprains and concussions up the wazoo. My nose has been broken 9 times at last count, the fucking thing is on a hinge at this point.
I wrecked my motorcycle once and basically landed on my head at 45 miles an hour, it rang my bell so fucking hard that I didn't recognize my own parents at the nurses desk staring at me with concern after I had finally ridden the bike home with one hand and had my room mate haul me to the hospital.
I had no idea who they were and remember my Mom staring at me and thinking who the fuck are you and what the fuck are you looking at?
Thank God I had a helmet on because it cracked that sonofabitch good.
Of course like anyone of my advanced years, I occasionally get what my Grandmother used to call Mystery Pains just for fun too.
You know the ones.
You feel fine when you go to bed but when you wake up the next day you inexplicably can't move a certain part of your body without inducing extreme pain.
The odd crick in the neck, an ankle that goes tender, arthritis pain or some kind of funky lumbago you never had before.
There is no rhyme or reason for it other than to remind you that you are still alive and gettin' fuckin' old.
The last few weeks I have been having trouble with some tendonitis in my right arm and my left wrist has gone gunnybag like I strained it. Hurts like a fucking bastard if I turn it the wrong way.
That wreck I was talking about just a minute ago?
When I went over the handle bars I put my hands out and landed right on my hands just before my head slammed the pavement.
Broke my left wrist and separated my right shoulder on top of the concussion.
I broke that wrist again in the same place a couple of years later going over the bars of a mini bike onto the pavement yet again.
The doctor told me if I ever broke it again that the scar tissue would probably cut the blood supply off to the little novicular bone that I broke twice.
That's why I have trouble with it occasionally.
Then I had the guy turn left in front of me from the right lane in South San Francisco on my way to work in 84 I think it was.
I wound up having my lower back fused in 85 when I was 25 years old after going through TWELVE fucking doctors that kept telling me there was nothing wrong with me because I could bend over and touch my toes. Fucking quacks. They obviously had never heard of a bulging disc before.
That was pretty much the end of me and motorcycles though.
It seems I have a problem with throttle positions when it comes to anything with an engine.
There are only two.
OFF and WIDE OPEN.
This is not a good thing when riding a motorcycle on the streets I discovered.
Well, that's enough rambling for now, Someone is telling me to sit up and eat my pudding like a good boy. Nice lady.
Besides that I feel a nap coming on and I need to take some more Ibuprophen.
Naps are good too I have discovered, sneaky but good.
Y'all have a nice day now and thanks for stopping by.
Tuesday, January 31, 2017
I Woke Up this Morning And Found My Grandfather Staring Back At Me In The Mirror
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