3 weeks in

Today marks the third week since “the accident” and I’m completely over the whole arm-in-a-sling thing. The most frustrating part of it is that, although my collarbone feels like it’s as knitted as an scarf, it decides to momentarily send shockwaves of pain throughout my arm whenever it decides I’ve rotated my arm too much and/or supported too much weight on it. “Too much weight” in this context usually means picking up a can of ravioli from the kitchen cabinet, which is chest level. It sucks.

Killer is in St. Charles visiting friends, for the holidays I assume. In case you are wondering, I don’t think I call him Killer to his face that much. I know it’s “what people call him” and all, but it’s a little too strange, even for me. I mean, it’s cute and all, but It’d be like meeting someone and having them say “call me necropheliac, everyone does.”

Ok, it’s not EXACTLY like meeting someone and having them ask you to call them that, but it’s similar.

I call him that when talking to my friends though, which is even more unsettling. “Me and Killer went to see Narnia last night.” It’s like I’m one of those insane bitches that fall in love with serial killers and write them letters while they’re in jail or something.

Ok, it’s not EXACTLY like I’m one of those insane bitches, but it’s similar. Ok, it’s not even similar in this case, but I couldn’t resist the paragraphical parellellism. Is that even a term?

Did I mention that, since the only place I can still get Wi-Fi is outside in the courtyard of my apartment complex, I’m outside in 42 degree weather posting this?

Ready, O.K. Brrrrr. It’s cold out here. There must be some Toros in the atmosphere. I said Brrrr. It’s cold out here.

2 more days till my badge-a-minit! I can’t wait!!
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Aslan is Turkish for Lion

The Killer previously blogged about e-mailed me today and made reference to reading my post here about him. Funny, I post things here not expecting anyone to actually read them. :) Cool though.

But that’s not what you want to read about, you want to read about how I’ve recently ordered a few things from on-line: First, The Ultimate Arm Sling. It’s actually quite nice and as comfortable as the website says. I highly recommend it if you are ever in the market for a nice arm sling and don’t want to wear the hideous denim one the hospital provides you with. I mean, c’mon.. denim? It wasn’t even a nice wash.

The other, the Badge-A-Minit, satisfies a lust that I’ve buried since I was a wee small child. I admit it, I’ve always wanted to make my own buttons and sell them for fun and profit ever since my one-legged grandfather sold them in front of Wal-Mart to raise money for Childrens Hospital***.

I plan on offering many of my t-shirt ideas in button form, for considerably less money. Like, $2 a piece or 3 for $5. I’ll even do custom stuff for a small fee. Why not?

Why you ask? They’re buttons damnit, that’s why.

***No, I’m not kidding.

Update 12/09

Almost two weeks since the accident and my leg hurts a whole lot more than my shoulder. I can only walk for about 10-15 minutes before I start limping like a Jerry’s Kid. Gradually I can move my shoulder more and more without pain each day, just not with a very wide range of motion. Where there was once a pronounced ridge that felt a lot like a collarbone, there is now a nasty bump that feels like.. well, not like a collarbone. More like just a bone. I’ve been able to change my shirt and even shower without the sling since mid-last week, but after a few minutes of supporting my arm with my chest or belly my shoulder gets very sore – I guess just from supporting it’s weight against the force of gravity. It’s not so bad. My leg, however is another story. I’m hoping it’s only a pulled muscle, but it still HURTS when I walk more than 10 minutes or so. Like the muscle is being shreded or something. Pleasant thought, I know.

On a personal note, I went on a date last night with a guy I met through Chris and Dwayne, some friends of mine that I see out at the bars on Sundays. Their friend, “Killer,” was out this past weekend with them and we started talking. I think the nickname comes from the same sort of irony from which one would call a really tall person “Shorty” or a fat person “Slim”. Then again I could be wrong and I went to Hookah Cafe’ with the next Jeffery Dahmer, but I don’t think so.

I hope not.

We’re going to see NOKAS tonight at DBA and I’m excited. I like being excited to spend time with someone… it’s a fun feeling. :)

Vincent needs

I’m stealing a meme from Julie: google the phrase :”your name needs” and post the first 10 results. Some are funny, some are eerily appropriate, some just take my mind off how badly this denim sling ITCHES.

Vincent needs to learn “broken French”

Vincent needs to get over his PTSD and act like a good watchdog.

Before going to Pops’ house Vincent needs to find a gun

Mr. Vincent needs help making nano particles

Vincent needs his own story in the piece so he’s not just a scary weird dude

Ugly Vincent needs trees.

The process of adopting another’s identity is not represented as a one-off con
trick: Vincent needs to be on continual guard.

St Vincent needs us in power

Vincent needs to get out more

Of course, there is no controlling the roster files, so Vincent needs to be smarter.

new sling

Image hosted by Photobucket.comI spent all day yesterday at the orthopaedist, from 12:30 to 5:30. Most of it was spent waiting and napping. If I sit in the same position for too long, my arm gets restless and will twitch a bit, sending waves of pain throughout my body. My first reaction is to try tpo move my arm out of the offending position which only makes it worse. It’s hard to remember the key to making it stop hurting is to simply relax the arm.. it doesn’t seem like the right response to such intense stimulus at the time.

How do I know I am loved by Julie, my best friend? When she put my socks on for me, dispite her extreme disgust of anything south of the ankle, that’s how. I wuv you too Julie!

Not a whole lotta love from the woman in the brown sweater at the clinic though.. she was almost determined to not help me clear up my missing insurance card problem. The staff at Kenner Regional seemed very disorganized to say the least. At least twice they told patients they had no idea where their records were, but my favorite part was when one patient asked the girl behind the counter if there was anyone there who knew what they were doing and if he could please speak with them. Another moment of professionalism was when the receptionist came back from lunch, sat down at the counter, looked at me for a moment then turned her head towards her co-worker and exclaimed: “Lawdy.. I gotsta peeee!” She then stood up and walked away like I wasnt even there, grimacing in pain. It was a ball.

Image hosted by Photobucket.comThe Doc said the fracture is worse than usual, but still wouldn’t recommend surgery over the sling. There’s pros and cons for each of course, but given my fear of surgery, I just as soon live with a slightly shorter shoulder. I’m already hard to shop for. :)