February 12, 2004
good things happen in pairs
My foot was almost well until last night, when I was cooking instant spagetti for supper. I knocked a whole quart of Prego sauce off the counter and it landed on my left foot. I had a religious experience.
Pain is an interesting experience. I hit the floor, applied an ice pack and did the elevation and compression Fist Aid. Took two aspirin and laid there in misery for a while. When I conjured the nerve, I peeled back the wrapping to see two broken toes, both turning blue and purple. Just when I thought that I was getting over this shit, I dropped a bottle of spagetti sauce on my foot and started the whole thing over again. I'm going to lose a couple of toenails off of this one. I fucked up that foot. Again.
But I made and ate the spagetti. That foot will just have to fucking wait. Ice today, heat tomorrow. Doctor only if I become really desperate. And I know what a doctor will tell me about two brokens toes. "Here's some codiene. Take it and be happy."
Maybe that's great advice, but it's not what I want. The last drugs they gave me for my foot had me too fucked up to tell shit from shinola. I don't want any more of that crap. I want my foot back in perfect working order.
I sat on my kitchen floor last night and thought that irony is a powerful force in this world. I was almost well, then I turned around and dropped a quart jar of spahetti sauce on my sore foot. That sumbitch hurt bad enough to make me say bad words, if I spoke that way. But I left off a "cockcucker" and "you rotten piece of shit." I kinda ran out of gas after that.
I ain't really full of vitriol today. I can look at the foot and tell that it doesn't like me. Oh yeah, it wants to show me colors and pain equal slamming to your hand in the car door but it's not really serious about going to to the doctor. It wants to go back to Jamaica.
"Fuck you. I put up with two weeks of your shit BEFORE your shit now, and I don't care what she does. Screw that foot. I want some ganga and an eight-ball. I'm going to get fucked-up tonight."
I listened to my foot, which wasn't really a good idea, because that night was Terrible Thursday, where I did it all.
I'm not good at doing that kind of thing anymore (too many years of NOT DOING it for so long.) But when I said that I was going to get fucked up, I did. I also learned that I can't handle that shit anymore. The only thing that really made me feel good on the trip was taking my foot-medicine and washing it down with a couple of Red Stripes. Go figure.
Jenny, I loved the trip, I loved being with you every day and the only detail I would change is you throwing my camera in the water. You still seem very upset with me and really I don't know why. I must be an easy man to dislike.
Perhaps so. but you are not easy for me to dislike. Just give me a break on one thing: I never blogged that we had a flaming romance. We didn't. We enjoyed each other's company. I saw you nekkid. Big fucking deal. You know how I feel about nudity as a taboo.
My posts have gotten all confused lately, and I believe that I may take some time off. I want to work on my book and I'm beginning to realize that I can't do both at the same time.
Hell. I can't hold on to three old friends on line at once.
Reading the past week has been like watching a train wreck. It ain't pretty but you can't take your eye's off of it.
This blog is nature's way of saying,
"Do Not Touch!"
Crocodile tears, folks.
Rob's getting a lot of shit from the woman who said THIS?::::
"Turns out I am Number One on the alluring Acidman's list of his female blog-darlings. Awwwww. Very nice! Particularly since he's rather high on my list as well.
He says he wants to meet me; "because I believe that our paths may cross some fine day and I may get to see her nekkid." Now, some people might think he's being a little presumptuous. But as a free-spirited pagan lass who does in fact like to go nekkid unless there's some compelling reason to wear clothes, I have to admit that the odds of his getting to see me in that state are better than average!"
Rob, that whiplash you're feeling is the result of this "free-spirited pagan lass" changing the rules midstream. As women are prone to do.
Those of you jumping all over Rob's shit for airing his sentiments on being "mind fucked" like this, really... get a life. There's a whole lot of perspective we're clearly not privy to, including the above.
Life is not a perfect straight line, it has its ups and downs. Friends are with you, through both cycles.
Holy mother of Goddess, Rob, you just don't get it, do you. Contrary to your perception, I am NOT still "very upset" with you. I thought we had made our peace yesterday!
But I am resigned to the fact that you are too clueless to avoid posting personal shit that's BETWEEN US, even though I asked you nicely not to. (Something that should be common sense.) No, I'm not upset with you. I can no longer take you seriously enough to be upset with you. But the flip side of that is that I can no longer take you seriously as a friend.
Jumpin' Jesus on a pogo stick!
Did you really just discuss felonious drug use on your weblog? Your ex must be eating this shit up and running out of printer ink. Maybe a break is a good idea since you seem intent on providing those who wish you ill a nice steady source of ammo.
Hang in there, A-man. Things will get better.
Or, things will get worse.
Either way, I'll be right, and that's all that matters. I'll say a prayer to the footandtoe god for a speedy recovery. Maybe you should consider making your spagetti sauce from scratch... dropping a tomatoe on your foot is a lot easier to handle than a quart jar...
Man. Seems like you should've left it at the sincere I'm sorry and the private reply you were e-mailed. Why bring it up again?
Hmmm: There is a difference between saying you saw someone naked and saying you slept with them. It was personal, whether you think so or not.
It was personal to me, too. i'm just not ashamed of doing it.
And if this shit cost me a friend, she wasn't worth having to begin with.
ive been kinda watching this train wreck from a distance and all i can say is jenny, after reading what rob tends to write about at great length, if you honestly went on a trip with him and actually expected him NOT to write about every singl detail that most of us didnt want to know about anyways, then YOU are the clueless one.
All your misfortune is due to the fact that you have angered the Pasta Gods by using canned sauce. (Jarred sauce. Whatever.) Prego is evil, though not as evil as Ragu, or (shudder) generic knockoffs like Thrifty Maid.
The problem here is tha Hombre de Acido fell for the Trailer Park Girl and she didn't fall for him.
Hey, at least he got to bang her.
Ouch! Rightisright maybe wrong. Or maybe right, either way...
Andrea hit the nail on the head... pasta gods POWERFUL. Plus, it's so easy to make your own sauce. I suppose dropping a can of tomatos (if you go that route) would result in the same outcome... buy small cans, then. Anyway, slow cooking a big batch and freezing is easy... make it just the way YOU like it, godamit. That jarred shit is shit.
Don't worry 'bout the Jenny. I'm a guy and I got the sensuality you tried to express... and Mr. Helpful is on his game, too. Good advise. Tend to the foots and UB blogging again soon.
Sorry, Jen. He didn't come out with some crude description... Sounded to me like he really respected you... and your soul. jesmy$0.02
Oh bullshit, you self-pitying manipulator. You blogged about you and she having sex. Get it straight and don't keep pretending that you didnt' do that. You invaded her privacy without her permission and a thousand jars of Prego dropping on your ill-attended foot (and that's your fault and yours alone) wont' change that. Stop with the self-pity and be the man you're always bleating you want Quentin to be.
And a belated smack to mr. helpful.
well, as far as it being private, I learned a long time ago that if you didn't want someone to find out about something you either didn't do it or killed the other person involved....since murder is illegal, I guess ya don't do it. Never write, talk or say something that you don't want overheard, re-worded or told. 'nuff said.
shrug it off Acidman ~
oh man..my grandfather told me that exact same sentiment years ago...good advice..