Wednesday, January 26, 2011

a pain in my ass

I have a pain in my ass.

And I can tell you what it's not:

It's not...

...January in all its depressing, dismal glory decision to only drink on the weekends (was I drunk when I came up with that one?)

...the lovely layer of fat provided by the extra 8 pounds or so I've been benevolently housing since the new year

...all the crazy, wiry silver (yes, SILVER!) hairs that I obsessively tweeze out of my skull every time I am near a mirror and tweezers are within reach (I'm seriously considering putting some in my purse) empty bank account

...eating only seafood and vegetables and fruit (and having NOTHING ELSE in the house--all the better to avoid temptation!) in a misguided effort at getting rid of those previously mentioned evil 8 pounds

...the reinstatement of my dear friend insomnia--working on about 10 hours of sleep in the past three days inability to stop neurotically chewing on my own fingers--biting my nails and cuticles like I'm stranded on Everest and starving to the point where I am driven to consume myself (or die trying)

...having two teenage daughters and being in the last year of my thirties (my youthful, "you're not old enough to have teenagers!" jig is almost up)

...nearly deaf, inconsiderate neighbors who play their television at decibel levels that probably caused their hearing loss in the first place--and then their alarm goes off incessantly starting at about 5am--and it just whines on and on and on because they are frickin'* deaf and can't hear it unless I throw a shoe (or other handy object) at the gal-durn* shared wall between my bedroom and theirs

*I'm trying to keep it PG, people!

...the parade of assholes constantly (and for no reason) slamming on their brakes (repeatedly) in front of me on the freeway on the commute home from lovely, overcast, gray, dirty, freezing cold Salt Lake City (Utah may look awesome dressed up in celebrities and money and parties held on mountains that are above the frickin' inversion--but it is just another Hollywood lie that gets people to pull out their wallets and contribute to someone as stupid as Kim Kardashian--although she does have a booty that won't quit--who drops over 100 grand on a @#$&%^!*#%?%^@#!!! watch)


My pain in the ass is NONE of these things.

It is a literal PAIN. IN. MY. ASS! I have a knot, or trigger point (for those who can pick up what I'm layin' down), in my ass. And it has tormented me ALL DAY! I have a HUGE archival document sort of situation going on at work (like hide and seek, but with electronic files) that pretty much keeps me glued to my chair.

That is not a conducive situation to a pain in the ass.

All day I had to find excuses to get up and wander to an area where I would not be observed so that I could dig my knuckles into my ass in hopes of releasing said trigger point. But--alas!--I am not trained in the ways of releasing trigger points, and after HOURS of self-knuckling, I am still in pain.

I took a super-hot bath.

I am sitting on a heating pad.

I continue to knuckle.

I broke down and drank some wine(HEY--don't judge me until you've walked a mile in my ass of pain!)

But I find no I shall wallow. But I will not make you follow. Save yourself while you still can. Don't follow me down this ass-pain road to ruin!

Run! In the name of all that is holy--RUN!

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