(Prior posting from my old webspace)
I woke up this morning, pulled my five stomachs and six asses into a sitting position, felt the bed pull me backwards, but resisted the urge.
I then straightened out my knee, listening for that lovely Barbie leg “snap” I’ve grown to loathe, moved my neck from side to side to relax it a bit, and was greeted by a sickening crunching sound, followed by the snapping of twigs effect. Then I stood up and walked to the bathroom. It sounded like someone stepping on a bag of pretzels as I stumbled blindly to the toilet. Every joint, every pore, every hair made noise.
I did my business, as we all do, put my shorts back up and was delighted to find them all wet. Shaking, apparently, is no longer enough. I now need a penis pump to clear out the aftermath.
When did I get a storage compartment up there. Someone upstairs is getting a GREEEEAAAAAATTTT chuckle at my expense.
I then take the stairs, knees screaming with pain as I lurch down towards the french press, looking like a child for the War Amps navigating each step. Once downstairs, I take note that I am still not able to see, because my bifocals are upstairs, and until they are on my face, I’m basically making coffee a la Ray Charles!
Loud sounds emanating from beyond my stain spattered window frame (I can’t see much, but dirt, I can always manage to see that, I need help) pierce my ears and almost cause me to drop my cup. But, with steely resolve, I regain my composure.
Shiloh, my cat, decides he wants. So, he starts his figure 8 on my legs, every step I take, I have a fur piece navigating my legs like some obstacle course. No need to wonder where the coffee ended up as said animal bolted up the stairs for his efforts, just a little warmer than he was seconds earlier.
I have to bend down to wipe up the spilled coffee. Another lovely sound, no, make that two come to my realm.
I get to hear my spine fracture into billions of shards of agony, followed by a new jet propulsion turbine that was installed up my ass unbeknownst to me during the night. Man, if I had been smoking during that test run, there’d be nothing left of the back wall of the house. As it stands, it blasted the dirty window frame clean.
As I careen up the stairs towards my closet to decide what to wear (at this point in my life, whatever is clean works) I notice a pair of pants I hadn’t worn in a while. Now, red flags would normally go off when reaching to the twilight zone end of my closet, but it’s too early, and I am not stoned enough on caffeine to have any common sense. So, I try them on. My left thigh screams blue murder as these once loose pants demonstrate their lack of love for the act I’ve just inflicted on them. They show me how deeply they object as they hold my thigh hostage, and only with a struggle likened to the war of 1812 do they finally succumb to my will.
My ego, not feeling void enough of morning cheer and confidence is now a black hole in space, waiting to suck itself into oblivion.
I finally find some slacks that don’t say Extra Ass, but in fact read Quad Ass size, and put them on. I try NOT to look into the mirror, but like an irresistible gravitational device, I’m compelled. I shudder as I see Alfed Hitchcock where once stood a lithe and supple body.
As I wander aimlessly about the house, weeping copious tears in mourning, I decide that I must be one tough dude.
I mean, how many man can claim to survive all this. Most guys get out of bed, their hair needing a comb, maybe brush some pearlies, shower, shave, and they are Adonis. If anything remotely resembling this happened to them, they’d be curled up in a fetal position or so shell shocked they’d be calling up Joanie River’s special brand of doc for a consultation on how to get their groove back.
I am a man. I can age with grace and dignity. I smite thee, O Tom Selleck! I put a pox on thee.. Woody Harrelson! Bedamned those BowFlex bodies fed by vanity and carrots! I shall ingest lard and bovine repasts and listen to my balls clank in a manly manner as I waddle forth towards Denny’s for breakky in my stretch waist battle armour!
I am middle aged, hear me snap crackle pop!