Thursday, January 22, 2009

Broken: Me

     Big Dave has had a rough start to his 2009.  So as part of our January Special Promotion we are going to offer a look at a few of the things that have broken under his hand or gone wrong on his watch.  Today we are going to look at him.

     Yes, I've even managed to break myself a little bit during this spell of bad luck.  Not a whole lot but I have a little bit.  But it's okay.  Much like my poor cell phone I am a resilient sort.  I am even wearing a red shirt right now so I sort of look like my phone too.  And I am all lit up.  Haha.  Just kidding.  Let's look at the ways that I have managed to break or attempt to break myself.
     First, I got drunk and fell down some stairs.  Yeah, that happened.  And I admit it.  For as much shit as I have given to people like The Dingo when they get drink and fall down I really deserve some shit myself.  So here is the story for all the world to hear: I went out on my birthday and was in the process of drinking way too much.  So in my drunken stupor I made the fateful decision to go break the seal.  I went back towards the back of the bar and I knew that women's bathroom came first, so I walked past the first door, read "Men" on the second door, and proceeded through the third one, which was the door to the basement.  As I stepped out into thin air I looked down and realized that this was not a bathroom.  It was not a bathroom at all, it was a set of hard concrete stairs.  So down I go, attempting to catch myself as I go and failing miserably.  I was lucky enough though to land on my knees as opposed to my neck or face and I only injured my left wrist, my right elbow, and both my knees.  I know.  I could have been lying on the landing bleeding from my ears and having spinal fluid leaking down the back of my throat until the keg of Busch Light needed changing but instead I was just missing a couple of small patched of skin.  The one on my left wrist was the worst and when I made it to the next bar some nice lady there put a bandage on it.  I know, I can't count this as part of my bad luck.  And I don't, because it had nothing to do with luck.  I was the one who threw all those cocktails down my throat.  And it was actually good luck that I didn't die.  But still, the high end Band-Aid brand cloth bandages that I bought to cover the wound really irritated my skin.  I still have hives or whatever where the adhesive was.  Now that wasn't my fault.  It was just a precursor of things to come.
     Somewhere not too long after that someone at the office noticed that the lottery jackpot was getting into the nine digit region.  Fine.  Fantastic.  Wonderful.  Well, someone had visions of happy offices of people blowing those little cardboard horns that you use at New Year's and throwing confetti all over each other as they celebrate their new found wealth.  That is, before they get torn apart fighting over the money.  Well, they thought it would be neat if that office was us for a change, so we all threw in one American dollar and decided we would split the cash prize evenly between all of us.  So who do they pick to go buy the tickets and enter the numbers we picked?  Oh yeah.  Captain Downtrodden himself.  So off I go, on the coldest day of the year on foot, to get lottery tickets.  How delightfully Southern, no?  Well I go but decide that I need to go to the friendly local bank to change the many dimes I have stored there into easy-to-transport nickels.  So my plan of attack is this: go to the bank, wander over to the gas station, get the lottery tickets, and then make my way back to the office, all in time for lunch.  No big deal, right?  Yeah, that's what I thought.  I go to the bank, do my banking, and start heading towards the friendly local gas station and I trip.  I am not sure on what I trip, because when I turned around to look nothing was there.  Just snow covered driveway.  But I definitely tripped on something.  I did that move where you end up standing on the side of your foot.  You know.  Well this causes me to break my ankle in at least eight different places.  Yeah, it hurt.  Oh, and by the way, the bank is right next to the highway so everyone saw me.  Even people from other states. Like Wyoming or Arkansas.  But I am a trooper.  I am not a tough hockey player, but I've been to a bunch of hockey games so I am like tough by association.  So I soldier on towards the gas station to buy lottery tickets on my extremely tender and possibly shattered ankle. (Okay, it was just twisted a little bit.)  I make it to the safety of the gas station and promptly sit down and begin scribbling out lottery number picks on the forms.  I go to the counter, pay the money, and begin making my way back towards the office.  About a third of the way there I come to an intersection.  Pulling up to the very same intersection at the very same time was an attractive young brunette twenty-something.  Awesome.  Well, realizing that it is about 100 below zero outside she courteously waves me through the intersection.  So away I go, trying to look super cool in front of Miss Driver, and I promptly trip again.  Same stepping on the side of the foot.  Same ankle.  Same result.  This time I broke it at least 419 times AND I looked like a fool in front of some unknown chick that I would never meet again.  Great.  I mean, I caught myself but I would doubt that I got any points for that.  She was really strict.  Like the Soviet judge at a figure skating competition.  AND, we didn't even win the lottery.  I knew they shouldn't have picked me to get the tickets.
     Aside from that, I have only managed to brain myself on an open cupboard door and get the gout.  No big deal.  But do you see?  I am even managing to break myself.  I am wondering if, at this point, I should be put in a straitjacket in a room all by myself, just to keep my safe from me.  Seriously.  I am afraid to go anywhere with anyone, lest I ruin their lives too.  But oh well.  I am just going to hold up in the Worldwide Headquarters until this all blows over.  I know I went on and on the other day about how I was going to rear my ugly head and fight this thing.  But sometimes you have to realize that maybe it's better to go with Plan B.  Maybe it's a wiser decision to hide in the church belfry until the enemy army heads on to the next town.  So I am going to hang out here, maybe send a donation to some orphans or bleach a nun's habit and see if karma will give up waiting for me and go after someone else for a little while.  Wouldn't that be nice?

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