Wanted: Lots and Lots of Pity

Waaaaah!  Lesson learned at the bar this weekend:  If you want your poor wee feet (shut up) to survive the 80’s party… you should probably have spent more than $9.00 on your tacky-ass shoes.  But who can resist bright blue snakeskin?

So now I have a big ol’ rubbed-raw place on my right heel, and because I am a horrible hypochondriac excellent medic, I have doused it with Triple Antibiotic ointment and swathed it in gauze and medical tape… and it spent the weekend wrapped up in an Ace bandage to cushion it.  And Chuckweasel is on The List because he has not shown proper sympathy for wounds I received FOR HIS BENEFIT and he’ll be sorry when my poor footie falls plumb off. 

Also, he once again tried to get me murdered by making me go out to the car and get his iPhone even though we had just had a zombie-hobo sighting in the parking lot (Chuckweasel said hobo, I said zombie — it was SHUFFLING, yo! — so we agreed on zombie-hobo and drove around the block until it left).

Other than the wounding and the attempted murder, the weekend was great, the bar was very busy, and I may have to add more titles to my Goddess-hood.  I need one for Comforting Crying Women and one for She Who Is Beloved of the Gays.  Although I’m beginning to think they may think I’m a drag queen… it’s happened before.



Filed under He's the DJ I'm the Rapper, La Vida Loca, Reality Bites

17 responses to “Wanted: Lots and Lots of Pity

  1. You have my sympathy, I’ve never had a blister on my foot but I can imagine the ouchies 😦 D got himself a big ol’ blister on his heel from football on Saturday and has since popped and pulled it off. ICK. (by pulled of I mean threw at me)
    Given your new titles we have to go out sometime girl, you can put them all into practise with me 🙂


  2. sweet, always happy to accept another acolyte! And I had a little blister but I popped it with a needle, no big deal — this thing on my heel was just a little rubbed place after Friday night, so I put a band-aid on it… and when I took the band-aid off after Saturday’s dancing, A WHOLE WONK OF SKIN PEELED OFF! I may be a leper. But at least I kept my gross peeled-off skin to myself and threw it in the trash — mostly because I didn’t want the cat to eat it and become a man-eater!


  3. Sometimes we need to help our loved ones learn to understand and sympathize properly. Instead of waiting for your foot to fall off, take the lead and break it off in Chuckweasel’s butt.
    Also, you should save all such skin-wonks and make a wallet later. Didn’t you learn that in Brownies? I did. And several savory “recipes” for fallen comrades. Num.


    • I’ve always been more concerned with disposing of any shed body parts so as to prevent voodoo. But a wallet does sound nice… and now all I hear in my head is Wednesday Addams saying “Are they made with real Girl Scouts?”


  4. Um. Eew. To all of you. Maybe it’s just because I’m eating breakfast and wasn’t expecting talk of disembodied flesh, but eew. And speaking of eew, I was cleaning the bathroom in the old house – one I never used in the nine years I lived there – and I took out the rubber bath matt in the shower. There was a bandaid under it! Eew eew eew eew eew!


    • You should have learned by now; never eat while reading me, I AM going to be gross and inappropriate! And I am totally sicked-out by even my OWN used bandaids, I can’t IMAGINE finding someone else’s in my own personal areas! At least you hadn’t been soaking in that tub!


  5. I am sorry to hear about your foot. Blue snakeskin sounds worth it though. And you know you’ve arrived when the gay boys and trannies like you.


    • Our bar is right next door to the drag bar, so we get to play, “man or woman?” a lot as we walk over from the parking lot. Of course, this means I’m increasingly likely to be told I have a — quote — “fierce tuck, girlfriend.” AGAIN. It don’t get no fiercer than this, honey!


  6. Any post entitled “Wanted: Lots and Lots of Pity” has my undivided attention.

    And blue snakeskin?! What were you supposed to do, IGNORE that sort of beauty?! Preposterous. We suffer for our beauty.

    I think you should shroud your foot in bubble wrap, ala Michael Scott (Office) and get yourself a pair of crutches. 🙂



    • Bubble wrap is genius, but as I discovered last time I injured myself and tried to make more drama out of it than it actually deserved, I have forgotten how to walk on my crutches without hurting my underarms. And it’s not sexy to have to use IcyHot in place of deodorant.


  7. Insist that your doctor told you to keep your foot elevated and make Chuckweasel wait on you – serves him right for trying to have you murdered!


    • Please, this is Chuckweasel — the man who honest-to-Jeebus once turned to me and said “While you’re up, could you get me an ice water? AND I HADN’T MOVED A MUSCLE.


  8. Blue snakeskin shoes are the work of the devil but they were probably unbelievably cute hence their evil powers.


  9. Men NEVER give the proper amount of sympathy. Sonsabitches.


    • NAZI sonsabitches. And we were in the car yesterday, and I had my crippled foot up on my other knee, and he decided he needed to draw attention to some point he was making and TOUCHED IT. And I said “Ow, quit that.” And he said “Sorry,” then went back to his story and TOUCHED IT AGAIN. His excuse ? ” Oh, I thought it was on the bottom of your foot.” THEN WHY DID I SAY “OW,” CHUCKWEASEL?


      • I thought it was a pre-emptive “OW” because I was getting dangerously close to the bottom of your foot where I THOUGHT the wound was…I didn’t know it was a direct contact “OW”…LOOK OVER THERE..A SQUIRREL!!


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