Oh my youth, where have those days gone? The ones where you were so fun and careless. All kittens, rainbows, and casual sex. Plenty of casual sex. Lots of beach days with the girls, shots of tequila, telling my boss to go fuck herself without a care in the world. I remember when calling out sick on a Monday meant I was on a 2 day bender of cocaine and free casino booze in Vegas. At around 5am Monday morning I would wake up (or rather wake up to reality) and do the math of a 5 hour drive – need to be at work in 3 hours = Im fucked.
Times they are a changing. I barely hold my liquor these days, and the last cocaine I did was an energy drink that doesnt even exist anymore. Every night out is a surprise, a mystery as to which one of me is going to show up. Is it the one who can have 3 Jameson and Gingers and still talk philosophy and quantum physics? Or is it that fucking idiot who is probably having a hormonal fluctuation and cant have one glass of red wine without an emotional meltdown and a 24 hour hangover? Sadly the pre menopausal one shows up more often, convincing me further that after about 30 years old, alcohol should be given up completely. Alcohol, and fun.
There was a time when I could play volleyball all day, snowboard for hours on end, run, jump, chase squirrels. No, that was my cat, but I could keep up with him! Then age sets in and strange things happen. Like one ordinary afternoon I was having some pretty ordinary sex (minus the fact that it was amazing sex, when the fuck was the last time I had that?!) and something happened. We “finished” and as he went to dismount, I realized I would not. Nay, could not. He had been railing me against the headboard and in the midst of good sex I did not realize my neck was bent unnaturally. Apparently my body is not capable of these things anymore and 3 days later I was still in excruciating pain, barely able to turn, with his Mom offering me pain killers for an “old neck injury” that was flaring up. Luckily I was so cockeyed I didnt have to look her directly in the face as I lied to her about my sex injury.
Now Im sure we can all relate to a cause and effect injury happening. I wont even bore you with the details of when I pulled a muscle in my arm masturbating. I know, right, who hasnt done that?! These injuries make sense though. Which is why I am still baffled that this week I woke up at 6 am with the worst back pain I have ever felt in my life. So bad that when I finally mustered the courage to move from bed, I could only get as far as a crawling and crouching position. My roomate was very helpful in laughing at me writhing in pain on the floor. I slowly shimmied my way across our hardwood floors (which is exorbitantly more dirty looking when your mouth is about 6 inches away from it) and finally make it to the bathroom door, only to discover I really can not put any weight on my left hand side. Standing, sitting, or walking.
So how does one pee if you can not sit or stand? This was the question I pondered while toiling away on my equally dirty bathroom floor. I wish I could tell you I urinated myself, if only for your amusement, but I actually just sucked it up, sat down, and proceeded to pee…and cry. Upon the conclusion of my pee I thrust myself off the toilet into my more familiar position of crawling. It was at this point that my roomate was there to once again support me, by taking pictures of me on the bathroom floor with my pants down, now crying…and laughing. He finally assisted by gathering my broken ass up off the floor and putting me back to bed where I called my boss to tell her my “situation.”
Do you know what an asshole you sound like telling your boss that you threw your back out while you were “sleeping”? Or rather how pathetic and feeble you are admitting that this is actually your physical condition? So frail and gentle that the mere act of restless sleeping can knock you out of life for a week? Where I was once confident dropping down chutes off cornices on some of the biggest mountains in the country, am I to be relegated to sheer terror about going beddy bye?
Long lost are the days of Vegas coke binges and booze fests. Hanging on by a string are the nights of good neck breaking sex, or any sex for that matter. And waiting for me here is the official title of the lying asshole at work who needs a day off because she forgot how to sleep without injuring herself.
Less Class More Ass 