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Peregrine flight

Friday, May 28, 2010

Thank you, Bushmills!

My back is totally fucked again. I have upped my cal mag citrate, stretched, sat in the massage chair, read appropriate scripture, iced, slammed ibuprophen, nothing is working. Can't sit, stand or lay down, comfortably anyway.

It was such a gentle pivot that caused my spinal deck of cards to come  crashing down. I am judging a car show on Sunday and I need to be able to walk. Must stay open today and greet customers. Charmingly.

Owing to my debilitation, I sought solace this morning in Irish Whiskey, Bushmills, the protestant variety, first distilled in 1608 if you can believe the label. Leslie figured that Albertson's would be cheaper than Major. I tried to do the whole transaction thing on the self checkout, not wanting to appear to be the total loser that I feel. But the woman behind the counter caught my act and I got that little reproving stare. At least my hands weren't shaking although it would have been a nice touch.

Did you ever notice the class of folks who buy liquor early at the Sav-On or Rite Aid? A special breed of alcoholics. I am not a heavy drinker and do not plan on making this a habit but plan to be a tad shitfaced by the time of my 5:00 assignation with the chiropractor. Whose own back has been fucked. Heal thyself, Tim and then me too. Cheers.

3 comments:

Sanoguy said...

A friend's back just went out yesterday. He thought it had to do with surfing 2 days in a row followed by a day of golf. He is 63. I sent him your back posting and he wrote back that he is laughing his ass off. He has done everything you have save for the fatties. He said that is next.

May your back be better by Sunday!!

Bri Smith said...

Bushmills in the morning. Hmmm. Think there is a camp at Burning Man where you would fit right in should you choose to make this a habit afer all. Now, as to the special breed that does their early morning liqour stock up at the Savon...I have watched with great interest these special birds. I am busy hiding various creams, potions and other "lady" products from the other shoppers because no on must know my horrible secrets...especially in this little Village where it could wind up in the Village Snews as a blind item a la Page Six. the headline could read "Local Arts Administrator Tanorexic...spotted with medium-to-dark toned self-tanning cream clearly intended for Latinas...not white girls from Canada". But while I hide my bronzed shame these birds defiantly stock their carts, clink through the aisles and brazenly purchase cases of cheap beer, cheap vodka and jugs of plonk wine at 10am on a workday. A few weeks ago I was shopping for a reception at 10am on a weekday and after a brief consultation with the wine guy at major I stocked up on some modest Californias, the bottles clinking noisily in my cart as i made my way to the check out. CLANG BANG BONG the bottles fall down in the cart just as I pass a Board Member who is shopping for toothpaste or some such thing. He looks up and sees me sees my cart with nothing but wine bottles in it at 10am. I stutter, "It's not what it looks like" and he says "I heard the clanking of the bottles and thought 'someone has a problem'". Well no problem, Doc. But you should have seen me at 735pm after we had cracked open those bottles. Tee hee.

Blue Heron said...

Bravo!