You know that saying "things will get worse before they get better"? I've got blisters on my wrists and chafed-turned-bruised underarms to prove that that's true. And all because my stupid foot stupidly decided to start bleeding because of some stupid piece of glass, or maybe because of some stupid splinter, but really the stupidest part is that I have no fucking idea what's going on with it. What I do know is that today, it's suddenly not bleeding anymore, but there's still a little brown dot on the underside of my foot that's either blood that looks brown in the light, or else some strange foreign object that periodically shifts just enough that putting any pressure on my foot makes me want to chop off my foot altogether just stop the pain. So far, I've discerned the following: it's not a freckle. Unless a freckle can spontaneously feel like they can kill you, in which case that's definitely what it is.

As things currently stand, I've decided that I'd rather get around any way possible that does not involve the use of crutches. My gross motor skills suddenly fail completely when I use the wretched things. For instance, yesterday I had the following near-fatal incidents while hobbling around: slipping on tile indoors, hitting a bad patch of pavement and nearly wiping out, and then nearly falling over sideways when walking through a doorway. I must be an awkward six-foot half-inch tall, too, because the height adjustments really aren't doing me much good.

I had to ice my armpits last night, for like an hour or so each, because they're constantly throbbing in pain. This is my first time to actually use crutches because I NEED them, and I'd like to go on record saying that I'd rather crawl everywhere on all fours than use the crutches anymore.

I suppose the only benefit from the crutches is that I've gotten an all-day abdominal workout. It's better even than those ab cruncher workout things, because I'm constantly having to use my abs to hold up the rest of my clumsy body. Which means, dear reader, that I am officially ripped, despite not being visibly so. Therefore, you should want my body.

*In one day alone, I encounter as many as a hundred or more people. When every single one of them asks you the same thing, it gets really old, really fast. Which is why bitch-slapping is such an attractive course of action. Just saying.