I hate me, part 563,539
I’m laid up for a couple of weeks because I had an operation on my foot for hammer toe. When I went to the doctor for a diagnoses and he told me I had “hammer toe” I responded in my best MC Hammer voice, “Hammer Toe!”. My doctor is a serious looking guy, like a guy who would play a doctor on a T.V. show and his response was a wan smile due to A) since the early 90’s I’m sure he’s heard that a million times when he diagnoses it , B) it’s not funny and C) my emphatic MC Hammer impersonation probably sounded vaguely racist. The procedure was a success (so good that I ended up with an extra toe! Now I have six on my right foot) and after, as they were preparing me to rejoin society, I was offered crutches or a walker. A walker seemed a little much so I went for the crutches. Not a great idea as I consider crutches and chopsticks distant relatives and I’m pretty terrible with chopsticks. So there’s been a lot of laying around interspersed with death defying feats of tottering around on crutches. Also, my wife is a goddamned saint, by all rights she should have smothered me in my sleep like the Chief did to Jack Nicholson in Cuckoo’s Nest.