So, I was walking the other day, right?
Okay, anyone who knows me knows that I am indeed a fool who can't walk in a straight line. Leave it to Tamara to attempt walking in said straight line Tuesday and step on a damn acorn and have my ankle to twist to the point where it touches the ground.
YES, A DAMN ACORN!!!
So, I quickly regained my balance and did the infamous look around to make sure nobody saw what happened. Seeing as I was wearing some Shox, it felt like I dropped quite a bit before I got my wits about myself again. I didn't fall, but I am starting to think I should have.
Anyhoo, I go on aboot my business and notice that my foot is hurting progressively worse, but decide to go on into work anyways. I told my girl Yvette what the hell happened, and she told me that her friend had twisted his ankle jogging in Nike Shox. She brought me some ice and told me to elevate said foot.
Of course, being that I work in an office, word had spread within ten minutes that I was working with one leg and a kickstand. Another manager said that her son jogs in Shox and has mentioned losing his balance from time to time. Either way, I decided to put my shoe back on and ask my manager if I should go and get this looked at. Well, my foot had swollen to the point where I couldn't get said shoe back on. I then limped my odd ass to her office and said that I was going to bail. She was more than cool with that.
Just my luck, I would eff up my foot on the day that a typhoon was coming into Memphis, so I picked up Seed 1.0 and made my way to Mom's house to ride out said storm. Afterward, we went to Baptist Minor Emergency. Well guess what? Those hoes don't take CIGNA! The nurse had the unmitigated gall to ask me what was wrong! I said "what the hell for? I come hopping my black ass in here in the middle of a typhoon just to find out you don't take CIGNA!"I was a little sore and pissed.
So, we went to Aint Francis since it was closer. Why, oh WHY are they under construction?!? Man, it was all of twenty seats in the ER waiting room and there were some hellified characters in there. Alex, my younger brother, went in there with me, and I see that was for the best because we were able to insult enough people to make time go by. Here's a list of the people in the waiting room as described by Alex and I:
*The woman with the bad wig and the Uncle Ruckus eyes.
*The dude who was obviously in the ER for detoxing because he kept scratching his head and saying "I can't wait to get this shit out my system".
*The Hispanic man who was in the ER with a cold (as told by the Triage nurse) who kept saying his sneezes were caused by pneumonia.
*A Middle Eastern woman whose husband looked like Kumar. Dude kept asking the receptionist "when are you going to see my wife". Alex sent me a text that said "when is he going to White Castle"?
*The albino lady with fire red hair.
*A redneck woman in a Confederate Flag shirt who kept asking "how long ah gotta wait til I kin git some help fo mysef".
*The bitch that got my wheelchair because she was "shaken up from a car wreck". I got an effed up damn foot and that broad got my wheelchair because she was "shaken up from a car wreck"! I started to hit her in the head so she would have a reason to use the wheelchair.
But I digress.
At any rate, between Kumar and the redneck, I was almost to the point where I was going to hop my big ass back to my mom's truck and call it a night. However, they finally called me back to tell me that my foot wasn't broken, but severly sprained. I was glad she wasn't broken, but as bad as I was hurting, I just wanted some of that Good to put me to sleep. Sure enough, I got that Good, aka-Tramadol! I am allergic to aspirin, ibuprofin, and naproxen (Aleve) so for major pains (anything stronger than a cramp), I gets that narcotic!
Anyhoo, the moral of the story is simple: don't go to Aint Francis unless you are having a heart attack. They will take your wheelchair.
The other moral is this: If you are on Tramadol, do not play Mario Tennis because you can't focus on the ball.
The last moral is this: If you are albino, do NOT dye your hair fire red.
The End.
p.s.-I am accepting donations.
YES, A DAMN ACORN!!!
So, I quickly regained my balance and did the infamous look around to make sure nobody saw what happened. Seeing as I was wearing some Shox, it felt like I dropped quite a bit before I got my wits about myself again. I didn't fall, but I am starting to think I should have.
Anyhoo, I go on aboot my business and notice that my foot is hurting progressively worse, but decide to go on into work anyways. I told my girl Yvette what the hell happened, and she told me that her friend had twisted his ankle jogging in Nike Shox. She brought me some ice and told me to elevate said foot.
Of course, being that I work in an office, word had spread within ten minutes that I was working with one leg and a kickstand. Another manager said that her son jogs in Shox and has mentioned losing his balance from time to time. Either way, I decided to put my shoe back on and ask my manager if I should go and get this looked at. Well, my foot had swollen to the point where I couldn't get said shoe back on. I then limped my odd ass to her office and said that I was going to bail. She was more than cool with that.
Just my luck, I would eff up my foot on the day that a typhoon was coming into Memphis, so I picked up Seed 1.0 and made my way to Mom's house to ride out said storm. Afterward, we went to Baptist Minor Emergency. Well guess what? Those hoes don't take CIGNA! The nurse had the unmitigated gall to ask me what was wrong! I said "what the hell for? I come hopping my black ass in here in the middle of a typhoon just to find out you don't take CIGNA!"I was a little sore and pissed.
So, we went to Aint Francis since it was closer. Why, oh WHY are they under construction?!? Man, it was all of twenty seats in the ER waiting room and there were some hellified characters in there. Alex, my younger brother, went in there with me, and I see that was for the best because we were able to insult enough people to make time go by. Here's a list of the people in the waiting room as described by Alex and I:
*The woman with the bad wig and the Uncle Ruckus eyes.
*The dude who was obviously in the ER for detoxing because he kept scratching his head and saying "I can't wait to get this shit out my system".
*The Hispanic man who was in the ER with a cold (as told by the Triage nurse) who kept saying his sneezes were caused by pneumonia.
*A Middle Eastern woman whose husband looked like Kumar. Dude kept asking the receptionist "when are you going to see my wife". Alex sent me a text that said "when is he going to White Castle"?
*The albino lady with fire red hair.
*A redneck woman in a Confederate Flag shirt who kept asking "how long ah gotta wait til I kin git some help fo mysef".
*The bitch that got my wheelchair because she was "shaken up from a car wreck". I got an effed up damn foot and that broad got my wheelchair because she was "shaken up from a car wreck"! I started to hit her in the head so she would have a reason to use the wheelchair.
But I digress.
At any rate, between Kumar and the redneck, I was almost to the point where I was going to hop my big ass back to my mom's truck and call it a night. However, they finally called me back to tell me that my foot wasn't broken, but severly sprained. I was glad she wasn't broken, but as bad as I was hurting, I just wanted some of that Good to put me to sleep. Sure enough, I got that Good, aka-Tramadol! I am allergic to aspirin, ibuprofin, and naproxen (Aleve) so for major pains (anything stronger than a cramp), I gets that narcotic!
Anyhoo, the moral of the story is simple: don't go to Aint Francis unless you are having a heart attack. They will take your wheelchair.
The other moral is this: If you are on Tramadol, do not play Mario Tennis because you can't focus on the ball.
The last moral is this: If you are albino, do NOT dye your hair fire red.
The End.
p.s.-I am accepting donations.
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