Here I am, icing my ankle yet again.
You'd think that by now I'd have mastered the perfect comfortable position that enables me to get those hard to reach places, or have created a contraption that allows me to walk around being productive while simultaneously sufficiently icing, but alas, here I sit typing at some odd angle while precariously balancing two bags of frozen peas on the right side of my leg.
I'm quite sure I've mentioned this before, but road bikes suck. Infact, mountain bikes are so infinitely superior, that the former should soon be obsolete. Riding over a crack in the sidewalk on a roadie feels like going over a curb on an mtb, a pebble feels like a log, and zipping down a fast hill you'd roll over a manhole, but go flying over the handlebars on a roadie - and slide across asphalt instead of dirt. And be sprawled across the middle of a busy road. It was painful. It was scary.
The post shock revelations leave me distressed over aesthetics.
A small portion of Sussex Turnpike is paved with layers of the skin off my right shoulder. My shoulders are my favorite body part, certainly the only physical aspect of me I consider consistently sexy. One of the few remaining parts left unscarred, with no birth marks or other unmentionable oddities.(?) The only part of me that, even when I gain weight remains firm, muscular, taught & somehow always tan. If I break out, never a blemish near that sacred area! And now, although I doubt there will be any permanent scarage, my previously virgin skin has been tainted.
Just as I typed that heartbreaking truth, a commercial played in the background boasting my favorite slogan: Rock On. Beer - Coors Light to top it off - has claimed what I previously thought was a coined, copyrighted phrase. Now my favorite saying is tainted too. Doesn't it ever end? Now I can no longer cleverly holler Rock On before ascending a climbing wall and must remove the words from the banner on my cell phone.
Moving on back to my body....
The greatest downfall to the chaffing of my sole source of sex appeal is this: I have 1 rather big audition next week, potentially three hot dates (should I not be too self-conscience to be my boisterous self - oh yeah! and should the other party not blow me off), I have four more on camera acting classes, and scheduled head shots (head and shoulder shots) for two weeks from now.
I trully believe that if I were allowed to just continue moving foward, I'd really get somewhere. I mean, I work my ass off, then every few months some angry diety rains its wrath down into my life and I've gotta stop to pick up the pieces and realize whatever I was working on walked away and left me with a new beginning, three wasted months and a lot of weight to lose. (Yes, that sentence does actually make sense to me!)
Anyway, in lieu of pain killers to pass through this down swing, I need to go blast some music and clean house before kicking off my next 56 hour work week (that's my typical Thursday through Sunday). Some day soon I'll have a day off without an injury, a funeral, a parental unit obligation, community service to perform, a doctor to sit in the waiting room for...a straight up Me Day is in order!
You'd think that by now I'd have mastered the perfect comfortable position that enables me to get those hard to reach places, or have created a contraption that allows me to walk around being productive while simultaneously sufficiently icing, but alas, here I sit typing at some odd angle while precariously balancing two bags of frozen peas on the right side of my leg.
I'm quite sure I've mentioned this before, but road bikes suck. Infact, mountain bikes are so infinitely superior, that the former should soon be obsolete. Riding over a crack in the sidewalk on a roadie feels like going over a curb on an mtb, a pebble feels like a log, and zipping down a fast hill you'd roll over a manhole, but go flying over the handlebars on a roadie - and slide across asphalt instead of dirt. And be sprawled across the middle of a busy road. It was painful. It was scary.
The post shock revelations leave me distressed over aesthetics.
A small portion of Sussex Turnpike is paved with layers of the skin off my right shoulder. My shoulders are my favorite body part, certainly the only physical aspect of me I consider consistently sexy. One of the few remaining parts left unscarred, with no birth marks or other unmentionable oddities.(?) The only part of me that, even when I gain weight remains firm, muscular, taught & somehow always tan. If I break out, never a blemish near that sacred area! And now, although I doubt there will be any permanent scarage, my previously virgin skin has been tainted.
Just as I typed that heartbreaking truth, a commercial played in the background boasting my favorite slogan: Rock On. Beer - Coors Light to top it off - has claimed what I previously thought was a coined, copyrighted phrase. Now my favorite saying is tainted too. Doesn't it ever end? Now I can no longer cleverly holler Rock On before ascending a climbing wall and must remove the words from the banner on my cell phone.
Moving on back to my body....
The greatest downfall to the chaffing of my sole source of sex appeal is this: I have 1 rather big audition next week, potentially three hot dates (should I not be too self-conscience to be my boisterous self - oh yeah! and should the other party not blow me off), I have four more on camera acting classes, and scheduled head shots (head and shoulder shots) for two weeks from now.
I trully believe that if I were allowed to just continue moving foward, I'd really get somewhere. I mean, I work my ass off, then every few months some angry diety rains its wrath down into my life and I've gotta stop to pick up the pieces and realize whatever I was working on walked away and left me with a new beginning, three wasted months and a lot of weight to lose. (Yes, that sentence does actually make sense to me!)
Anyway, in lieu of pain killers to pass through this down swing, I need to go blast some music and clean house before kicking off my next 56 hour work week (that's my typical Thursday through Sunday). Some day soon I'll have a day off without an injury, a funeral, a parental unit obligation, community service to perform, a doctor to sit in the waiting room for...a straight up Me Day is in order!
posted by Lindsay at 7:12 PM
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