Alright, let me be the first to tell you that I'm sorry for the lack of ambition to post. I was having some sort of awkward identity crises that was basically thinking people didn't want to hear what I had to say. I was CLEARLY wrong because I have been getting a ration, scratch that, an onslaught of shit for not writing so when women request for me to write, damn't I'm gonna write! For those of you who don't know I have been brutally maimed and look like that guy from Hocus Pocus with the stitches all on his mouth. A bit of an embellishment but not far enough from the truth that it's a lie so I might as well chronicle what's been going on lately. Also I'll give you guys some baseball stuff tomorrow I've been pretty lax on that and the Sox have been basically pistol whipped anyway so I figured who gives a shit.
Just about every weekend I head over to the "Father in Law's" house to do work around the house. Not only do I like doing it, I also feel as if I sort of owe him being that I impregnated his daughter out of wedlock, before she graduated high school and unbeknownst to him in his basement (wink wink). So our excursion started with taking a tree down in the backyard. I was told being "the mule" that he likes to call me that I had to work the come-along. More so in part that he doesn't trust me to run a chainsaw, but nonetheless, I had to pump the winch so that it would pull the tree in the direction that we wanted.
The tree fell EXACTLY where we wanted and we were about ready to go inside to watch Jon Lester fuck me in the rump AGAIN with a horrible outing when the "Grandfather in Law" came out and said, "I have a tree almost on the powerlines, why don't we cut that one down before it rains." Being the man's men that we are we grunted and silently said, "Bring it, Sucka".
When setting up the come-along on the first tree we set it as close to the tree as humanly possible. On the second one, something seemed a bit odd because we set the come-along out along the cable and had to pump the winch out on the cable without any leverage, but I didn't say anything. The tree was crooked and it was supposed to fall AT ME and I was supposed to run out of the way like a flash. But the tree fell away from me and was where I was supposed to run. So I thought silently, "stay where you are, so you don't become a flapjack". This would seem like a primo plan, but I didn't take into account that when the tree is falling all the tension on the cable would loosen. Upon hitting the ground that loose cable slung shot the come-along up at an ungodly speed and hit me square in the mouth.
It knocked me back a couple steps, but not off my feet because I'm a bad ass and I could feel that my tooth was loose and then I started swearing because I done fucked up my grill. Everyone looked at me and was like, "Oh fuck, you need to get to the hospital." So I get into the truck and look in the mirror and realize I have a gaping, open for fucking, vagina right on my upper lip. I'm talking a humongous Christina Aguilera pussy right there on my face. Now usually when Christina's chatch is on my face, it's a good day. This however was not quite the time I imagined with her.
So we're going to fast-forward the part where my mother freaks out that her baby got her faced mashed, right onto the gernie where the real pain is going to happen. So this deaf bald guy walks in with gloves on and sort of talks like Mr. Garrison from South Park, and says, "Time to clear the room and get some stitches, mmkay? Do you care about this shirt it's probably going to get a little messy mmkay?" Now see here I'm not a bitch. I can usually take pain. 90 mile an hour fastballs in the side are a piece of cake compared to 9 fucking shots of Lidocaine almost made me bawl like a 5 year old girl. Now not only was I getting pricked with these shots but he didn't prick all the right spots and I'm actually feeling the inner stitches getting sewn into my mug and it hurts like a sonofabitch. But whatever what's 21 stitches inside and out in the grill.
Fast forward again, to the dentist's office the next day. At this point I already know my tooth is federally fucked, but I need to know for sure and what better way to find out than having some guy with a poker prod around your mouth? It all started with an X-Ray. The woman who I swear to god wanted to get all up on this shit even while I looked like Rocky after his first bout without Clubber Lang. I say this because she was very sensually rubbing her huge old lady boobs on me while I was in the chair and stroking my arm saying, "You still feel ok, honey." Anyway back to the X-ray, She told me to bit this thing and stand still. That was a dumb idea. I wasn't thinking because I hadn't eaten anything in about 30 hrs at that point I just chomped down and screamed like Jonah Hill in Accepted.
It was then time for more lidocaine and I could not have been more uncomfortable for the entire duration of my dental visit. The whole time this guy was in my mouth, ok that didn't sound good, it seemed like he had his knee up on the arm rest to try to get more leverage and mercilessly rip out my tooth. I felt the tooth come out and that wasn't bad, but the break was such, that it broke up inside my gum and they had to drill and chisel the fuck out of my face. The rub here however, is that my lip was so swollen from the cold-cocking I took to the face that even though it was numb they had to rifle my lip around like they were stretching out pizza dough. This was fine when I couldn't feel anything but when I left the office my face was so beaten up and now on fire that I started screaming at ANYTHING and Everything in my path on my way home. There were things like:
"GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY FUCKING WAY, YOU COCK BITCH!"
"TURN FUCKING GREEN YOU STUPID RED SLUT" (stop light reference)
"IS EVERYONE TRYING TO FUCK ME IN THE CORN SHOOTER RIGHT NOW GET FUCKING MOVING!"
This rage was nothing short of Mel Gibson in The Patriot and I had one thing to look forward too right? Painkillers! Just kidding, they gave me 5mg Vicodin. Are you friggin serious? I get more relief from a spoonful of children's Dimetapp. My mouth is in Agony and you give me the equivalent of a Flintstone's Chewable. Go fuck a goat.
Flash forward to right this second. My lip is not quite as swollen as it was I still look like someone that works at the Abilene Walmart but we're improving. I was a bit self conscious because prior to this I was in a word an Adonis. Now I have this snaggle lip thing going on that would make Elvis shit himself and I have a lot of work to do. But with your help, my wit, and your mother's ass *rimshot* we'll get through this and I'll become George Clooney once again.
Stay Tuned
Ryan
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