Monday, April 07, 2003
So, if you haven't already read - I broke my ankle on March 1st after a drunken argument with my girlfriend in her car on the way home from a night of social stuff. It started after she said a comment about the girl who gave us our food at Del Taco. I thought that what she said about the girl who worked at the drive-thru window was racist and insensitive. She thought that I was going to press the point too far and then not back down and then threaten to get out of the car like I have in the past. I told her that I would never jump out of a car. That would be stupid. Especially in our driveway, especially when I could've waited five seconds longer, especially after knowing how far I've pushed the karmic circle of my bones. Especially after spending the majority of my life doing impulsive, half-brained stunts and lucky to be alive after them. She thought that I would take my body's uncanny ninja agility for granted, and that someday it'd all catch up with me. I'm kidding. The only thing that she was thinking was that I was an asshole.
So, after I jumped out, and after I kicked her car with the already-hurting-ankle, I zombie-shuffled to the front door. Then I hopped to the fridge. Then I went in the backyard and smoked. Then I realized that I couldn't walk. I felt really lonely, but that's nothing new.
My ankle tried talking to me as she got in her pajamas and yelled at me:
- Kevynn, did you remember to pay the cable bill?
- Dude, Ankle...what the hell? I'm hurting really bad. You're totally swelling and you're asking me about bills?
- Fuck yeah, Bubba. You suck at paying the bills on time. What's up with your memory anyway?
- Stop it. You're being a dick.
- Yeah, whatever. At least I don't have a broken me.
She went to bed. I stayed up. Probably writing on this goddamn thing. Search my archives. I probably tried to be really clever as my ankle swelled up like yo' mamma's booty. It was hurting really, really bad by that time, but I tried to sleep it off, thinking that it'd go away like the majority of my ills usually do. I don't even get sick. I should, but I don't. That's why Karma's such a bitch when it slaps me back.
I only slept for an hour total. After making up with the girlfriend; I still refused to go to the emergency room. I wasn't down for more financial shit. Last time I went to an emergency room after that fight with the three Mexican gang bangin' fucknuts, I got stuck with a bill more than I could afford. They didn't light me on fire or anything; I just got socked in the eye. But, I was being cautious. Fuck caution - it's too expensive, and to think that I missed a Mike Ness interview because of a bunch of wannabe O.C. gangstas. Hee hee. Fuckin' dorks.
But I went eventually. The pain was pretty bad. I actually took a Pamprin or something like that, because we didn't have any Aspirin or hard drugs in the house. All that that it did was ease the pain of my menstrual cramps. I hate taking pills. I hate all of em'. Never really take em', but if you would've given me a poo pill that night, I would've taken it. Feces be damned.
In the E.R., there was no George Clooney. Too bad, cuz' I would've quizzed him on his early days on the Facts Of Life and asked him about the making of From Dusk Til' Dawn. I was bored, tired, and in pain. They put me in a wheelchair, which I thought was funny because I have one at home that I bought about a year ago for fun. I'm quite good at doing wheelies and spinning around in circles. I'm tempted to join the Wheelchair Basketball Association Of America, but they'd probably get mad at me in the men’s restroom after seeing me stand up to pee.
UPDATE - *My girlfriend is getting up for work and I'm still up writing. Girls, don't fall in love with an insomniac if you want somebody by your side in bed. But, they're good night time watchdogs. So lick it.*
Anyway, my ankle was broken. That meant two months off of work. That would usually seem like a blessing to me, but what I didn't know was that would mean no bars, no fun, more stress, and more relationship stress. You would think that I would have a lot of time to write on my screenplays, to finish a book or something, or to make this site actually look good. NO. No way. What little I knew. It's like getting days off of school when you have the flu. Yeah, you get a lot of sleep and you have time off, but you can't function normally. In my case, I couldn't walk or sleep normally. Going to the bathroom or the fridge was a big deal. I became an unwilling participant in the T.V. world, and now, I know HBO's programming like nobody's biznatch.
Two months off of work...sucks. I never really realized how much I took for granted. I'm one of those every day shoppers. I'm an after-work shopper. I get my own little treats, things for dinner, and usually end up with a bunch of plastic sacks that languish in our "plastic sack" drawer. There's no more of that. I've learned to count pennies. To cash in forgotten scratch-off lottery tickets, to hold gimp-drives, and to sleep. I sleep a lot now. But it's all WAR sleep, so it's not as fun as my old Empire Strikes Back dreams.
- Where do you think you're going Captain Solo?
- Apparently nowhere, Greedo, because unless Chewbacca feels like carrying me all over the place, I aint goin' nowhere, bitch.
The first week, now, seemed to go by in a blur because I was in pain and didn't move much. My girlfriend felt guilty and spent a lot of time on pillow-for-the-elevation-of-my-swollen-foot duty. I took a small amount of the Vicodin that they gave me, but started to use those only sparingly because I hated the feeling that they gave me and thought that I could probably make a tidy, much-needed, profit from my initial hospital investment. But combine that with my girlfriend's affinity for all things in pill form, and that with the occasional swiping from my bastard friends, and I'm only down to two lonely pills to sell to y'all. And even then, I might need them for my next bout of "Stunt Arguing".
Now time is moving at a drunken snail's pace. Which is a little bit faster than the normal rate, but still really fucking slow. I've been to the "ankle specialist" two times already, but he's a shifty-eyed, Puerto Rican with a five iron in his hand...and I don't trust him. Actually the real doctor that I have tells me that I should be back to my normal, ambulatory goodness in another three weeks, but they can stuff all of that horse pucky up their shoddy arses, cuz....
I can walk!!!
Yes, true believers, It's a miracle. Kevynn Malone can walk. Sort of. It's more like a slow, senior citizen-like shuffle. But it's a start. Don't think that I'm down to start "Power Walk Racing" with the rest of the silver folk here in Orange County, but I could give them a run for their money in a bit. The fucking, all-knowing bastards.
So it's 6:50 in the a.m., I haven't slept and don't feel an ounce of guilt because of it. I'm not on drugs, but I am running low on cigarettes. My girlfriend is getting ready for school. She's not gonna be late, the junior high doesn't start until 8, so don't worry.
I'm still not in the clear. My next appointment is in a couple of weeks. I'm broke. Really broke. After this last cigarette, I'm gonna shuffle on down to the grocery store and knock some fucking yuppie over the head with my crutch. Notice I said "crutch" and not "crutches". I'll take his wallet, but leave all of the Viagra. I may be a bastard, but at least I'm not a fucking bastard.
I can walk. Sorta. Yeah!..........
Go, go, go, go
Go, go, go shawty
It's your walkday
We gon' party like it's yo walkday
We gon' sip Bacardi like it's your gimpday
And you know we don't give a fuck
It's not your pimpday!
You can find me in the club, bottle full of crutch
Look mami I got the X if you into taking drugs
I'm into having arguing, I ain't into making love
So come give me a hug if you into to getting rubbed
When I pull out up front, you see the Benz in the driveway
When I roll 20 deep, it's 20 knives in the ankle
Niggas heard I fuck with Dre, now they wanna show me love
When you sell like Eminem, and the hoes they wanna fuck
But homie ain't nothing change hold down, G's up
I see Xzibit in the Cutt that nigga roll that ankle up
If you watch how I move you'll mistake me for a playa or gimp
Been hit wit a few shells but I do walk wit a limp
In the hood then the ladies saying "Kevynn you hot"
They like me, I want them to love me like they love 'Ty from Trading Spaces'
But holla in New York them niggas'll tell ya im lrish
And the plan is to put the rap game in an Andre The Giant choke hold
I'm feelin' focused man, my money on my mind
I got a mill out the deal and I'm still fucking broke