Still Recovering AKA I Almost Don't Feel Like Ass
Mood:  hug me
Now Playing: Sex Pistols
Here it is a week later and I almost don’t feel like total ass! UGH! This shit sucks! It’s like the Incredible Creeping Crud or the Creeping Crud That Would Not Die! I swear!

Part of the problem is that I never get sick at least sick like cold and flu stuff. I am more your basic small time industrial accident girl. I break my arm, sprain my ankle, dislocate my shoulders (Yes, both…at the same time) get black eyes, knock out my teeth, etc. I just don’t do run of the mill injuries and illnesses like Influenza Type B.

I am prepared for war—Motrin 800, frozen peas (ice packs), iodine, hospital formula benzocaine spray, Silver Sulfadiazine cream (SSD), knee braces, pain killers, liquid skin AKA Super Glue, Ace bandages for days, Epsom salts, splints....you name it. The Meg-O-Rama urban triage kit....

Seriously. Everyone who knows me jokes that if it can cut me or burn me, it will. No matter how careful I am, I am seriously accident prone. It is unbelievable at times. I am a total disaster zone. If I can run into it, I will. If I can trip over it, I will….at least once. If I can stab myself with it, I will. I might even hack off the top of my thumb. I am a magnet for injury and I have the scars to prove it.

I’ve always been this way. Apparently, unlike most kids, I just never grew out of it my ‘Danger Prone Daphne’-ness.

I was the kid who was constantly falling out of trees, cutting my arm open on rebar, having skateboard accidents, getting beaten up by my older sister, falling off my bike, etc. I was always covered in an array of rather spectacular bruises and scabs.

Kids wore them as badges of honor back then. Big, gnarly, slimey, mutant scabs that evolved and dissolved on a regular basis as we spent far too much time in the pool—blech! But I digress…

Anywho, I was injured so often that our family doctor actually asked to talk to me alone to make sure our stories were consistent. Sweet! I only wish I had been old enough to play that one! Could have been funny. “My sister attacked me with a rabid hedgehog.”

So my long winded point? (Do I ever have any other kind?) Give me a sprained ankle, knock out my teeth, anything! Just no flu. Please! I can stand pain—tattoos, broken bones, papercuts, etc. What I cannot stand is being a whiney, snot infested victim of my own useless self!

All I can say is this crap had better clear up before I head to D.C. or I will whip out my buddy Jack Daniels and continue to furiously hot toddy this thing into submission!