Go Play in Traffic

Owie. The first picture. Ten minutes after the incident.

 I was sooooooo bored today. Seriously. After spending a month merely staring out of the picture window at the torrents pouring from the heavens above, I noticed a strange phenomenon in the sky. It was the color blue. "Oh, joy!" I exclaimed, tears pouring down my face as I raced out the front door to bask in the sun for however long I could. My skin embraced the light as it toasted away the years of my visible youth, the under layers of leathery bliss preparing to later emerge and give me even more reasons for a chemical peel.

What to do? WHAT TO DO!?! I was faced with the quandary of dry air and nothing to do. Since my creativity had been pickled away long ago, not much entered my brain. Weed the yard? Nah. Too boring and too many bees. Wash the car? No. That's peasant work. I then remembered something my friends from middle school used to tell me quite often when I was being especially awesome around them: "Go play in traffic." As that was something I hadn't yet managed to get around to, I decided that now was as good a time as any and set out to find a great intersection for my new favorite pastime.

It didn't take long for me to find a happy little intersection just a few blocks away from my home. This was good because I was so full of caviar and mimosas I was too bloated to move. Lucky for me, it also didn't take very long to find a big truck in front of which I could leap to my certain peril. And super sweet insurance payday.

Now, I know what you're thinking. Some of you that knew me back in my more responsible days may think that instead I was just walking to work as usual and was smacked into, HARD, in the crosswalk, when I had the signal, by a stupid effer with a small penis in his giant truck when he was making a right turn without looking when he did not have the light in his favor. But, you know that can't be the case because I don't do that sort of thing any more. I was simply dancing about in the intersection with nothing better to do and the guy had the nerve to plow into my arm and then recoil in horror from me at the utter destruction I probably did to his truck. I'm sure he sped off so quickly because he needed to go check on the damage.

I was so busy having a good time I didn't even think about getting his license plate info. It's okay because I wouldn't have much to squeeze him for since it's just my arm which is mostly okay. If only I had endured an injury that would require a neck brace or a wheelchair. Shit. I missed out.

Anyway, I coped the best way I could by FINDING ALL THE LIQUOR and DRINKING IT. And taking pictures of my bruise every few hours. Even after this is posted I'm going to keep taking pictures and updating the bruise situation every few hours. Enjoy my pain, my dear fans.

The aftermath.

6 hours after the first picture.

9 hours after 1st picture.