my lower back is scareaming at me not to move in certain positions, but then i forget and pick up a towel off the ground, which is usually half a second before my erupting into full blown yodeling with pain.
yah so. that's the gates of hell i spose, then where i stood after that was the firey furnace.
there's this velcro back-brace that my mom gave me. she bought it at the swapmeet, and i have it cinched as tight as it can go, and it's still loose like a hoolah hoop. but i still wear it because that way im not just blogging here in only my boxers. now i have a weirdo mock cumber bun.
and if THAT was hellacious... then NOW im locked in the iron maiden that is being dipping in boiling battery acid.
because see, i got all comfy safe and warm before i remembered to get MORE CIGARETTES. and that means, naturally of course, that im due for a mission to see [whatever that pricks name is that works graveyard shift] at the 7-11. plus, my back would like a nice cold 12pack of coors light, or some other equally pissy beer, because i like my beer like i like my nonfat milk. watered down. and yes i only want 12 beers, because im a fucking pussy. it's true.
*scratches face, buggs out eyes, let's out a sigh*
alright im going to get dressed. wait here to see if i remembered to bend at the knees to pick up the clothes off the floor.
a white under tee shirt, and a pair of blue jeans later, im off to fetch that what kills me.
welcome to hell, my babies.
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