I GIVE, already.

Okay, I give up - I'm seeing my doctor today about this stupid foot pain. I usually avoid going to the doctor for what I consider minor pains, colds, coughs, etc. In general, most of what is wrong with me is usually easily treatable with rest and asprin, sometimes a blast of vitamins and Motrin.

But this thing has gone on too long. It was gradually getting better, a little bit a day, and I thought for sure by the weekend it would be fine. Then I twisted the bastard on my way to work and I've run out of patience with my supposedly 'self-correcting' body. Seems it wants more attention than I've been willing to admit.

Is this the kind of shite that's supposed to happen when you hit your 40's? Well....no sir, I don't like it. I want my 25 year old body back. You know, the one that could drink all night, grab a shower and go to work without actually dying by noon? The one that could lose 10 pounds just by switching to light beer for a couple of weeks? The one with the energy to work full time, go to school full time, drink like a fish, and manage to graduate Cum Laude? THAT ONE?

Fuckity fuck.

The previous may lead readers to believe I'm in a worse mood than I am. I just tend to focus on the one little thing that sucks right now. Yeah, the ankle thing sucks, but lookit! It's Friday, Payday, the sun is out, we're looking at a full weekend of good baseball (Sox/Yankees, at Fenway, and the crowd is going to be RELENTLESS on A-Rod's most recent bush league jackassery. Which will be HILARIOUS. Fun, fun, fun), and despite the ankle, the rest of these old bones are just fine. Maybe I'll even get some high-powered painkillers out of my doctor, and spend my evening in a shimmering psychedelic puddle. Park the truck, open a nice little Rioja, and let the fun begin, dahlings.

Rockit!