The gig’s up. I’m no longer on crutches or in a cast. I’m walking again. It’s a little bit upsetting. I kinda miss the crutches. People felt sorry for me. I got some respect. Actually, I guess it was really just pity, but it could be confused for respect at times. Anyway, now I’m just limping around with a little brace on. It’s cool to walk again, don’t get me wrong, but I’m tired of people asking me if I sprained an ankle. “No, I ruptured my Achilles tendon.” “Oh, really? I think I did that once.” The hell you did, ass face. People don’t get out of my way anymore when I try to walk through a door or anything. I’m no longer a cute crutch boy the girl at the check-out line feels sorry for. Now I’m just a sorry gimp with a semi-permanent limp. Not nearly as easy to pick up chicks this way. I think I’m just a little annoyed that people no longer appreciate the severity of my injury. Not that I want people to appreciate my injury, but when that’s all you got going for you, you want… well, I guess that is what I want. I’m sick of people passing me on the stairs or kicking the back of my foot and not really knowing just how bad it feels. And I want chicks. Or at least one. A cute one. With money.
I don’t know if many of you are paying attention to baseball now, but the Os just signed Cal Ripken “Jr.” to a one year $6.3 million deal for the upcoming year. I was sitting around with Isaac watching this story unfold on Sportscenter last night…
“My God. He’s stealing money!”
Well, how else are you gonna get fans in the seats to watch such a shitty team?
It’s all about the Benjamins, baby,
Back to Standing Again…