evidence

i maintained for years that nothing happens in american football- every time i sat through that shit with grims, it was just a bunch of dudes in tights, only about half of whom should be wearing tights in the 1st damn place, doing very little for 3hours. they occasionally run, occasionally jump on each other in some sort of unattractive homoerotic pigpile, but mostly stand around, scratching their asses. they do this for 3hours+change, for a game that only has 4 15minute quarters. even with breaks, that's @ least an hour lost to their waste. every time.
finally, i read in the may2004 playboy: "broadcast time of the 2004 [sponsor] sugar bowl telecast: 3hours, 43minutes. live game action when the ball was actually in play: 16minutes, 28seconds."
nuff said.
walk good.

woe (next day edit)

carnival monday and not only am i still (living) in d.c., in winter, i've found myself somewhat incapacitated and working tonight, for free. i suppose i should just be glad it's a reading where we'll sit the whole time.
walk good.
[edit: not woeful, per se, but weird, to leave home and return to find a "for sale" sign planted in one's front yard by somebody else- not that we didn't know we're selling our house, but without even a warning, coming home to the sign was a little freaky...]

technically too tired to blog

not just tired; lame. literally. but how could i not deliver the perfect follow-up to poking cadavers...
i been on my ass with my feet in the air for over 13hours now. lame.
thursday morning @ roughly 10.50am, a 6'-long 2x6 accidentally fell (i suppose that's obvious), swinging downward from about 6feet, onto the bridge of my foot, narrow edge 1st, just to make sure it hurt.
grims thought it was broken pretty immediately, but i wasn't trying to go hospital for them to charge my uninsured ass plenty $ to wait around, grumpy and in pain, to tell me what i already knew- it's hurt because a 2x6 fell on it and it's swollen like overripe fruit; rest, ice, elevation- right?
so i fought the hospital hard, but when 6hours later the golf ball that'd appeared on my foot instantly upon impact still hadn't dissipated, and i still couldn't walk on it (not that i expected to; i mean, a 2x6 fell on it) or really move my toes enough to call it moving them, i had to give in and go. i was almost convinced it was broken (the closest i came to being fully convinced was shortly thereafter when medical dude poked around, announced that shit was moving that shouldn't be so i'd be x-rayed because he was pretty sure my foot was broken).
but we'd been packing frantically so i had to drag my broko-ass upstairs and navigate bathing 1st. i mean, i couldn't let strangers touch me in that condition (because it's too much to ask to fuck oneself up hospital-grade after finishing the chores and bathing, to avoid adding embarrassment to physical pain)- my mother would've been appalled. i won't go into details- sufficeth to say that bathing was difficult+dangerous- but i must commend grims for helping. he's amazing.
we finally left for the emergency room, choosing gw instead of washington hospital center or howard, both of which we've waited ridiculous lengths of time @ in the past (er @ er). good choice, even if the 1st dude to speak to me while getting me into the wheelchair didn't look old enough to work- we never made it home from the er on the same night we went in, before. i think it took about 2hours, total, but, of course, it wasn't broken. i have a contusion and crutches and have to stay off it completely for @ least 24hours. it was my good foot, too...
but more importantly, i found out (while in radiology, which felt a little like waking up in the 28days later hospital, waiting all alone in a huge, echoey-empty green-lit room in a wheelchair) what happens when patients are too big for hospital machines:
i'm sitting in the radiology foyer, which is technically a hallway way too big to be a hallway- it looks like it had cubicles along the wall i was facing that'd been ripped out, leaving a big hole not fashioned into a purposeful room that just makes the hallway much more than a hallway in spite of simply being the area between 2 opposing double doors, with the radiology lab door behind me. anyway, i'm sitting in my wheelchair alone in this creepy green empty room and this chick walks by me looking all disturbed. she gets around the corner where i can't see, but stops close enough that i hear her approach the dude in another lab down the perpendicular hallway with, "um. i have a big patient...a patient who's really big. really really big. and i was wondering...um...what's the weight limit on these machines?"
dude says it's not actually about weight, it's more about girth, since dude has to fit in the machine. she says he's about something-i-can't-catch-inches around, and dude comes back, "including elbows?"; "uh...no." pause, pause, pause, "so. what should i do?"
radiology dude sticks his head out the door behind me and speaks out of turn from where i can't see, scaring the shit outta me and interrupting my maco* to tell me he'll be out to get me in a minute. i tune back in in time for the disgruntled sigh, the "sorry", and footsteps announcing her imminent return. so as she comes back past me, i ask, "will he have to go to the zoo?"
because that's what i heard happens if someone can't fit in hospital machines, and i wasn't about to pass up the chance to ask for professional confirmation. she slows her stride, looks confused, then intrigued, then thoughtful, then smiles and says, "i'm not sure yet, but maybe that's the answer..." as she picks up pace toward the other double doors back to white light and people (i assume; it's tough to remember, in radiology).
but that's not enough for my inquiring mind so when radiology dude finally comes to get me after an interminable wait for the zombies, i tell him what i heard, and ask what really happens...
he said the zoo's an option they use occasionally (x-ray gurney's only rated for about 300lbs; grims said the mri was tight around the shoulders and he's nowhere near obese) but it's resource+financially costly so can never be the 1st choice, immediate decision, and it takes days to work through to the zoo option so what can happen instead is that the morbidly obese person dies 1st from lack of treatment...
talk about fucking incentive...
walk good.
*trini dictionary on sidebar.
ps: in addition to being so helpful, grims hooked us up with exciting posts including his upcoming tattoo (yay british ink; check portfolio if you missed it the other day) and setanta's jose mourinho muppet parody...