Random Esquire

Bluetooth and I rode the elevator down together a few days ago. As we parted ways, she asked if I would like her to pray for my arm. I said sure. I thought she meant that she would go home, kneel by the side of her bed (after her bath and tooth brushing), and ask God to bless my arm.

Not so.

As she walked away, she motioned at me to follow her and said, “Well, come on!”

You know, I really would hate to break this trend of stupidity on my part. I followed her. She put her hands on my arm and said, “In the name of Jesus Christ, I command that this arm be healed!” She went on and said similar things in the same general vein. I concentrated on keeping my eyes on the ground while she performed an exorcism on my arm. After about 60 seconds of this, she looked up at me and said, “It’s healed now, isn’t it?” I moved it around a little bit (I had taken some ibuprofen just an hour earlier). I just said, “Thank you.” I did not know what else to say. She said, “You need to thank Jesus. Say ‘thank you, Jesus.’”

Here is living proof that something is seriously wrong with me: I said, “um..thank you, Jesus.”

And this is why I continue to be a freak magnet.

I told Instigator. She said, “YOU ARE GOING TO BLOG ABOUT THIS AREN’T YOU?”

Well, it was a bad weekend. On Saturday night, and I will spare you the specifics since they only make me cringe – not only in pain but in the realization of exactly just how stupid I can be – I mangled my arm and thought I had broken it. Boss took me to the emergency room where X-rays showed that all bones were intact and the damage was all to soft tissue. I had crushed the muscles of my forearm. While there, the nurse suggested cleaning me up. Cleaning me? That is when I asked Boss to hold up a mirror so I could see the back of my forearm. Somehow, I had received a puncture wound which was thereafter referred to as a “hole.” Doc suggested a tetanus shot so up went the sleeve to my other arm. Another nurse came to give me pain medication – only, she did not bother to identify her purpose so when she walked in and handed a cup of water to me, I first thought that perhaps she was there to look at my arm and would I please hold her water while she did so? Naturally, I refused. To hold her water, that is – I did not refuse the pain medication. On the contrary, when she told me she was there to give me pain medication, I grabbed the cup and opened my mouth like a baby bird.

Did I mention that it was a good twenty-five or so degrees below freezing? It was. We made our way to the car and jumped in, shaking from cold. And it didn’t start. The engine did not even turn over. I got out of the car and had Boss turn on the lights. They turned on. I re-locked and unlocked the doors and we tried again. Car started. Must be the security system. We were just grateful it started and that we did not need to call a cab.

We get home. That’s funny, it feels cold in here. That would be because the heat is out.

Misery comes in threes.

So now I am home with one arm in an icepack, sitting in front of the lit fireplace, typing with one hand, waiting for the heating company. Boss had to work today. My right hand looks like Howie Mandel blew it up and any movement makes me want shout. AND I AM HUNGRY.

Our days are so different. Here are actual excerpts from our conversation about our day at work:

Boss: “…and this other teacher, she has this little boy who just got circumcised and she heard this scream from the boys’ bathroom….”

Me: “…and he could not believe that people were worried about losing their jobs…”

Boss: “..and she told me that she saw her daddy putting on her mommy’s perfume….”

Me: “…

You know, I can’t even remember what else I told her about my day because no matter what it was, it obviously pales in comparison to circumcisions and cross-scenting.

Tonight for dinner, I made filets, lobster tails, asparagus and potatoes. Filet, asparagus, potatoes, good. Lobster? Right, then. Boss and I swore off lobster for the next ten years. It did not go well.

This morning, as I was getting ready for work, I heard some huffing and puffing. I stuck my head outside the bathroom and saw Little Filthy, rearing his head up and down, a pair of panties on his head.

I should not be proud of him.

I know this.

1. I will not be drinking coffee ever again from our office kitchen. This is because Shim reported that Fresh Express washed her socks in a coffee pot. Did you hear me? She washed her socks in a coffee pot. He told me this and I said, “Like…put her socks in a coffee pot, added soap and hot water and swished it?” I made a circling motion with my hand. He nodded. This is not difficult to believe because Fresh Express often wears more than one layer of clothing and at any given time, it might be hanging over a vent or chair, drying. Drying from what, I don’t know. Just…drying. That’s crazy, right? You don’t need a DSM-IV for that. You can just start writing prescriptions.

2. The woman who had a face transplant. Bully for her, I thought. Then I heard what brought about this need. Apparently, she took sleeping pills, fell asleep and when she awoke, tried to smoke a cigarette. Upon realizing that the cigarette wouldn’t stay in her mouth – because she had no lips – she went to look in the mirror and that is when she realized that her dog, a labrador, had chewed off her face. A labrador? Not a pit bull? A labrador? Let me get this straight. This woman took so many sleeping pills that she could not feel a dog mauling her face. And her first thought upon waking was for a cigarette. And upon failing to smoke successfully, she questioned what was wrong. That, and the blood all over her. I have personally concluded that she was hiding tennis balls in her cheeks because I can think of no other reason a labrador would do this.

3. Kirsten Dunst is not attractive.

4. Boss is gone. She has class on Monday nights. She gets home around 10 on Mondays. I hate Mondays.

I am at home, nursing a cold.

Daytime is boring when you don’t feel well.

Even Little Filthy is bored. We are bored with each other. We are boring individuals.