So, anyway, my back was giving me some bother this morning, and it got worse as the day went on. "Fuck what is wrong with my back?" I wondered, but not aloud as there's no-one else here to hear me say it. Then I noticed that my left fist (the up-cutter) was a tad twingy as well. This made no sense.
So I called my drinkin' buddy from last night, and I now know:
- he kicked me "against" a fence --- note not "through" a fence, just against it. That it collapsed under my momentum is apparently a matter for me the the property owner to discuss.
- the big fucking huge guard dog that was -behind- said fence cannot put up a good defense against south-paw and pants crapping Dave. I hope I only frightened it (as it did me).
- Wendy, the hot looking barmaid, totally needs to keep stopping to keep her hands off me - at least while her husband is out of town...
Next week: I go to the Hoover Dam and say cuss words...
A madness metal, impervious to harmful thought or deed...
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