About two weeks ago I had a bit of an accident. While playing basketball at my local YMCA I began to get quite frustrated in my performance. Now I'm not an angry super-aggressive athlete who can't take losing as an option, but this day everything I did on the court seemed to go wrong. The fateful event happened after I got the ball stolen from me. I turned, looked at the padded wall, and like an idiot thought it would be an acceptable response to punch it. After all it was padded, what harm could possibly be done? Shortly after hitting the wall, a sharp pain ran through my hand and upon looking down at it I immediately knew it was broken. After four hour visit to the hospital I found myself in a splint with a broken right pinky (broken hands don't get much manlier than that).
Now I have found myself in a position where I no longer can play music, I can't write my final exams (I'm right handed), and every little task such as tieing my shoes seems comparable to running a marathon. Looking back at it though I can't find myself complaining about it. Actually I find it kind of funny. I'm walking around with a huge cast for a small broken pinky, I have a plate in my hand from surgery that has a striking resemblance to a penis when you look at the x-ray, and it all happened right before my 21st birthday (the day your supposed to fall and break your arm). Anyways it can't be too bad, chicks dig scars right?...as long as I lie about some of the details.
No comments:
Post a Comment