On Sprains, Pain and Being Vain

Wow Sam.  Where the hell have you been?

The Blog Broad Sprained Wrist

Nursing a sprained wrist.  I injured myself, falling on to an outstretched hand.  My wrist is swollen and black and blue.  It’s my right hand (I’m right handed) so I’ve been trying to use lefty as much as possible.  PAIN IN THE ASS.  I’ve mostly been laying around feeling sorry for myself.

Crazy old cat lady
I can’t throw with my right hand

I can’t use the hair straightener so my hair is in an awful state.  I’m a bathrobe and 5 cats away from looking like a crazy old cat lady.  When did my hair get so frizzy? and where the fuck did all these grays come from?  Why didn’t I notice before?  Is that the real power of the flat iron?  Masking your hair flaws?  I need it back!

sad dog
Sad puppy

 

I can’t pick up my dog.  So I’m just following her around petting her from above.  She’s a mini dachshund so she’s very short.  I usually pick her up for kisses and squeezes several times a day to tell her how pretty she is.  Now my dog’s self confidence will plummet and she will be thrust in to a world of doggy depression and self dog loathing.

Jedi Mind trick it

 

I can’t cook.  So I’m just lightly grazing around the apartment.  Find a corner, eat some nuts.  Eat a bowl of sunflower seeds and forget about that hamburger you’re craving.  Spaghetti is a 2 handed food Sam.  Here are some almonds.  I can’t even open my eggs.  I just keep looking at them in the fridge trying to Jedi mind trick them in to a mushroom omelette.  It’s not working.  I need to try harder. 

Writing is fucking hard challenging.   I’m typing with my left hand and right index finger.  It hurts.  It feels like my fingers aren’t quite attached to my hand, and my wrist feels like it’s separating from the rest of my arm.  I’ve been downing CBD oil for pain like a fallen soldier in the field downs whiskey before amputation.  I think it’s time for more.  I think it needs wine.  Please send wine.

Big-eyebrows
this poor bastard

I can’t tweeze my eyebrows.  Dear Lord I’m turning in to Groucho Marx over here.  Who knew tweezing with your alternate hand would be so difficult?  What if they just keep growing eventually becoming part of my hair line?  How much conditioner will I go through?  How will I style it?  Will I have to join a circus act and rename myself Sam, the dog faced Broad?  Help!

Have I mentioned I’m a lesbian?  I don’t think I need to go too far in to detail to explain how detrimental a bum hand can be to my love life.  Long story short male readers:  My penis is damaged.

I can’t play my video games.  Before anyone rushes to ask me whether I play Call of Duty, I should mention I play silly little games on my IPad.  Needless to say, my restaurant is full of flies with expired dishes and my crops have all rotted.  I have not collected my daily Jeopardy bonus nor can I play World of Tanks Blitz on the laptop.  I have resorted to Netflix as my sole entertainment provider.  I binged on X Files over the weekend (a Scully-a-thon) and I watched things like Death Note and Family Guy.  The best thing I watched this weekend was a new 2 part documentary about former INXS front man Michael Hutchence which was exceptional.

 

Honorable mentions for things I can’t do right now go to:

Not Being able to pull my pants up with both hands after using the ladies’ room

Unreachable itching 

Vaccuming

Zippers

Holding a hot mug of tea with two hands and reflecting upon the day

Hugging like I mean it

Bras

Puppetry

Welding

Hand modelling

 

When was the last time you injured yourself?  What couldn’t you do?  I’d love to hear in Comments.

 

Live Humbly, Be Charitable, Live Graciously,

Sam

 

 

Images

Jedi Mind trick https://www.darkjedibrotherhood.com/competitions/10449

Crazy cat lady  http://www.laughinggif.com/gifs/e10yymsnps

Sad dog  http://moziru.com/explore/Puppy%20clipart%20sad%20animal/

Big Eyebrows https://www.thetrendspotter.net/mens-essential-grooming-hacks-10-annoying-problems/

I Used To Be Pretty 

Ugh. I used to be pretty.” I mumble to myself in the mirror as I tweeze the stray hairs from between my eyebrows.  Like most women, my eyebrows are not naturally perfect.  In fact, I have a unabrow that I have been taking care of since junior high.  I really don’t care who knows because there are pictures of me floating around out there sporting big black thick caterpillars so I’m not fooling anybody.  In the nineties, it was all about the skinny brow.  I wore those too.  Back then I looked constantly surprised.  We all did.  It was a frightening time.  That’s where The Macarena lives.  I take my eyebrows seriously now.   I have left specific instructions with my partner as well as close friends that if I am ever hospitalized for any length of time, for the love of all things holy, please have someone come in and do my eyebrows.  Anyway, moving on, I used to be pretty.  I’m really noticing my age now when I look in the mirror. 

I have creases and lines around my darkened eyes that I try to hide with concealers and light eyeshadows.  I have noticeable lines around my mouth from laughing out loud and deep frown lines in my forehead from wincing in pain, and from saying “what in the actual fuck?” too often.  I have coarse gray hairs sprouting where my soft wavy auburn ones used to be. 

Things creak and snap and pop in a much older, much rounder version of a girl that used to dance with reckless abandon alone in her room to the B52s.  The girl who used to stay up all night finishing a Stephen King novel before she went to school now, at 43 holds that Stephen King book much farther away and prefers e readers because you can make the font large and these days, I’m all about less squinting.

I’m aging.  It seems to have snuck up on me somewhere between season 1 and season 7 of Game of Thrones.  

One night you’re washing your bar makeup off and when you splash your face and look up, it’s 20 years later and there’s some old broad standing where you once were with an “I’m too old for this shit” look on her face.  She thinks your music is too loud and that young people suck.  

I guess I’m not at that aging gracefully stage as there seems to be nothing graceful about it. Things drop, sag and hang and all the push up bras and Spanx in the world can’t hide the lie forever.  Why are my hips widening now?  The time for babies has passed.  It really seems like overkill.  

I’d like to conclude by saying something like, “oh but I am so much wiser.”  I am.   I’m wise to the fact that I’m looking and feeling haggard and old.  


This blog post brought to you by Queens of the Stone Age Villains.. On repeat. Thank God for Rock and Roll…

Live Humbly, Be Charitable, Tell Her She’s Pretty,

Sam
Sam Clattenburg