The monkey made me do it

dangit.

I think I pulled my groin.

Stop laughing!

I didn't even know girls HAD groins. All was well until I tried to swing my leg out to exit my car and a banshee wail started to explode from deep inside me. Now I enter and exit my car like an 80-year-old, and trying to sit cross legged leaves me near tears.

Injuries like this should only exist in slapstick comedies, not real life. It's somewhere near the level of pie-to-the-face (hey, I bet whipped cream in the eye could sting a little) or 2x4 to the head... which reminds me that last weekend I accidentally stepped on the rake end of a rake and almost beaned my noggin with the handle. That's it, God hates me again. He's trying to hurt me in ways that no one can possibly feel sympathy for ("ohh, you got that giant dent in your cheek from a rake handle? You poor thing!") (I won't even get into the groin thing. I can't even type the word without giggling.). I am now a cartoon character, though that means that the only injuries I really have to watch out for are:

- Anvil dropping off cliffs
- Tunnel in mountain being not actual tunnel but painted on
- TNT explosion
- Something dropping on my toe that would create a big, flattened circle where my foot used to be
- Stepping on droppings from the birds circling and tweeting over my head

posted by LadyJay @ 4:44 PM