Yesterday, My bike and the Muni tracks got into a round of fista cuffs.



I flew over my bike and then landed on the left side of my body. These Muni tracks are strangers to me, having come from cities where there are none. Dazed and feeling like an idiot, some really nice stranger helped me to my feet. Using my bike to help me walk, I went to The Gap (which is where I was headed in the first place because I have several job interviews this week and needed some nice clothes) with my hair all over the place, hand dripping with blood and limping like a mo fo.



As I'm explaining this to Spar and Adrienne, Spar says, "Wait?? Are you telling me that you went shopping AFTER you crashed your bike and not before?? Are you fucking kidding me??!! And you are still talking about going to job interviews tomorrow when you should clearly be going to the hospitol!!!!"

Yeah...I was in shock..What can I say? I don't know what I was thinking!! Why on earth did I go shopping?? My roommate and I find this to be hysterical because the last time I injured myself, we went shopping for 6 hours with my broken finger and later had a drunk cop reset it for me at a bar.

Barely able to walk, I go home to drop off my bike and head to work with the notion that I will simply "walk it off". My boss told me I was crazy ( I was sitting on the bar stool elevating my foot with ice on it at the time ) and sent me home.

My roommate has now become my bitch, slaving away because I'm a gimp.