Limping Without A Good Story

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Usually, when I am injured, I have a fairly good story. Or at least humorous. There was the fractured leg which I refused to get examined after being nailed on the soccer field. There was twisted ankle down the stairs. There have been various other injured legs, ankles and feet. All of them with a vaguely humorous story or dramatic tale.

Why am I limping today? Because I ripped my toenail off while getting dressed. Not exactly glamorous. Not exactly interesting. Not exactly justifiable for the throbbing pain that is radiating from my shoe.

Do you have idea how lame it is to tell people you ripped your toenail off when they ask you why your limping like an idiot?!

What I wouldn't give for a good, old-fashioned Porkchop style injury.

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This odd narrative is my life. I ended up in Pittsburgh, of all places--from the beach. I have no hobbies, other than cooking excessively and eating microwave popcorn. I enjoy shopping, the Food network, hiding the remote so the Food network cannot be turned off, find ethnic food stores and restaurants and reading voraciously. My life is decidedly pedestrian.

I worked in the car business where I was required to be ruthless and soul-less wench, which is when I started this project. Since then, I've kept it up because secretly, I've always wanted to join the military. Every male in my mother's family has joined and I quietly entertain thoughts of joining. I haven't yet and don't know if I ever will, but sending the troops cookies keeps me sane. it makes me think I still have a shred of human kindness left in my withering soul. it's a small way for me to salute the men and women who are brave enough to fight for freedom. And makes me feel like I'm contributing toward troop morale--even if I'm not. So if you want to help, send me addresses of troops you know stationed overseas. you may also contribute toward the cost of chocolate chips, but don't feel obligated, that link is here only by request.

the past


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