Once upon a time, when I was still underage, in a far away land some called Roe Dyeland, I got drunk (I know!) and went to a gay bar (I know!). At that gay bar, there were pole-dancing stages dispersed throughout the dance floor, and because I was drunk, and because peer pressure works much better on me when I'm drunk, I got up on one of these stages with my friends and acted a fool.
Naturally, when I had had enough acting a fool, I jumped off the stage, which was an idiotic idea, because I was drunk. So of course I landed badly and totally and utterly fucked up my left ankle. It was probably pretty badly sprained, but did I go to the health center on Monday? No. I bought a brace and CVS and sucked it up, and after a while it stopped hurting, but I really don't think my foot has been the same since then. Whenever I wear shoes, it just doesn't feel right when I walk, and whenever I walk for long periods of time, even in flip-flops, it gets all...hurty while my right foot remains stalwart and true.
It was especially painful that time I spent an entire weekend wandering around New York City and also the time I spent, like, four days wandering around Toronto. Both times, my right foot was fine.
I need a new left foot.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment