God Damn Wyanet VFW!

Hi blog peeps. Since you have all been EMAILING me and asking when I am going to UPDATE I will let you know quickly that I am sick and I my usual sharp wit is about as razor edged as a butter knife. I caught some type of altitude related cold, that just keeps getting worse. It peaked on Friday night and I have pretty much been in my pajamas wearing breathe right strips the whole weekend. Friday night I spent the whole evening in bed, Saturday night on the couch.

I have one good story. Read it and then leave me alone. Go visit my new renter!

On Saturday we were going to get Chicken from the Wyanet VFW Chicken Fry. I love me some fried chicken. Husband wanted me to call and order it, but I don't know the phone number. He assures me it's in the phone book, so I (since we have no cell phone reception in the house) decide to go out to the garage, open the doors, and hopefully not get fucking soaking wet in the rain while I look up the phone number and call the VFW hall. I had the cell phone in one hand, the phone book in the other, and on the way to the garage my flip flops got wet on the cement patio, and then when I hit the doorway of the garage (dry cement) I slid and fell down. The phone book went flying. I cut my finger, scraped up my knee really bad, and my foot and big toe hit the walk in doorway. I limped and hopped and cursed and cried for a few seconds, looked in the phone book (where the phone number was not at) and limped back into the house where I saw Evan, and with tears streaming down my face, I said "I couldn't find the phone number." and Evan, sweet as he could be, said "Please don't cry, we can get chicken somewhere else! I promise." He thought I was crying because I couldn't find the phone number for the VFW and I wanted chicken so bad. So then I told him through sobbing like a baby "I fell down on the cement" and he gave me a hug and he said "It's okay, you aren't hurt, it just scared you" and I said "NO! It hurt me! And I pointed to the blood on my knee and all the dirt. He took me into the bathroom where I cried like a baby and he cleaned up my wounds with a washcloth and then peroxide and then he put a pikachu band aid on the worst scrape. I had to use tweezers to pick dirt and tiny rocks out of my knee.

By Saturday night, I had a black and blue and green big toe, and a purple little toe, and me knee is all scraped and scabbed up and bruised all over. The cut on my finger is very minor. And the phone book survived it all.

We ended up eating Pizza. But I picked Monical's myself.

That's it. I am sick. I want to be alone. I need to concentrate on breathing.