Very Pathetic

Getting up this morning was one of the saddest moments of my life up to this point.

My least favorite part of that first sentence there was 'up to this point' because I am certain there is worse to come.

For those of you who did not know, any that would be most of you, since why the hell would most of you know, my back is out. I am having a hard time bending and moving and the pain is really bad.

This morning, when I woke up, I scooched (Spell-check is telling me that scooched isn't a word. Fuck you, spell-check.) down to the bottom of the bed and managed to drag my jeans to me with my feet.

I successfully got my feet into them and then yelled for Joia to come help me since bending over and pulling them up really isn't an option. She's been helping me out with this for the past few days. She's what we would call a real trooper. (Side note: since this blog gets imported to FaceBook and that's where a lot of you read it, hop over to Joia's page and tell her what a trooper she is. She has just been awesome. I keep getting off on tangents. Did I mention that the back thing comes with pain pills & muscle relaxers? Wait, am I doing a blog about the death penalty and how horrible Rick Perry is or how much I hate the Pope? Oh, pathetic waking up moment. I went back and read the beginning. I need an end parenthesis at some point. Here.)

New paragraph.

Sitting at the bottom of the bed, jeans around my ankles, calling for Joia. I thought I heard her answer, but faintly. After a couple of minutes, I roll back and kind of shimmy them up and, it takes a while, but success! I am no longer pantsless and (Spell-check is saying that pantsless isn't a word, what the fuck?! Spell-check is a fascist. It is worse than Satan though not as bad as Hitler or Rumsfeld. How many times do I have to tell spell-check to go fuck itself in one post?) and can roam freely about the house because I have pants.

I know that for all the ladies in the world, this is devastating news, but yes, I am currently wearing pants.

Well, the family is all gone. I still don't know where they are. Errands or something.

Anyway, that scooching (Scooching is too a word, spell-check! God, I hate you so much, acting like you're the boss of me! I'll use whatever words I want! Stop stifling me you bastard! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!) Sorry everybody, I know that you hate it when I fight with the computer in front of you.

But seriously, never trust a computer and the cake is a lie.

The shimmying of the pants was a very sad and pathetic 90 seconds and I just thought I'd share it.

Remind me to share another anecdote involving not being able to bend over to lift the toilet seat.

And, if anyone cares, I'm listening to:

For those of you who were disappointed, stick it back in and let it play five or six more times. It is definitely a departure, but this is an amazing record. Trust me, I have never steered you wrong.

Then again, I should remind you that right now, I am lit up like a Christmas tree. I'm going to take another pill now.