And My Clothing Continues to Torment Me

And no this isn't about the fact that a coworker misread my t-shirt and my new name is Stinky.

I have learned to never take clothing out of context... or would it be "used"? Whatever it is it was a bad fashion choice this morning. You would have thought that the memory of all my past mockage of people wearing sun visors and tennis wrist bands in movie theaters and malls would have come to my rescue, but noooooooo.

For the ill-fated softball games I bought a longsleeve Under Armour shirt. For those who have never heard of this stuff, it helps keep you cool when you're working out/in the heat for a while, which is a must for me considering this area has 102 degree summer days and very little cloud cover and I have a bizarre sun allergy that turns me into a drooling mass of delerious pain.

This morning I thought, "Hey, it's a $40 shirt and it certainly isn't going to be seeing any physical exertion until my knee heals up," and decided to trade my usual under-tee long sleevey shirt for this uber-science-like, so-far-beyond-cotton masterpiece of engineering.

While it is a lifesaver when out and about in the cruel, cruel sun, it is not, I repeat NOT prudent office attire. I'm freekin' freezing and I can no longer feel my fingers.

Shirt Choice Proves Ironic

Or maybe purely co-inky-dink-y. It's too early for Alanis Morisette bouts of theological discussion.

This has been the first full week back at work after my Softball Faux Paux/Knee Popping Extravaganza, and it’s been tiring and severely, mind-numbing, muscle-spasming painful. But it was my own stupid, wanna-be normal fault, so I take my punishment with as little whining and bitching as possible. For those of you who know me, you'll nod when I say that at the least this is annoying, at the most it’s a great way to learn new cuss words and frighten small children. (Nod, damn you!)

So TGI-Frickin’-F everybody! It’s the unofficial silly t-shirt day.

The week before last’s tee, which proved to be bizarrely prophetic, consisted of:

1. A cutesy wootsey cartoon bunny head - A tribute to Conner the Wonder Chunk? A love of strategically placed ears? The caricaturish manifestation of my desire to be light and fluffy and accepted wherever geeks are bold perhaps?


2. Pink crossbones – Doomie doom doom, apparently; no conundrum there.


3. Oh and whatever animal t-shirt comes from, of course

This morning, through a haze of night-time pain killer remnants and a severe case of eye-crunchies, I opted for an old favorite. Perfectly worn in, with that comfy familiarity slack-off clothes tend to harbor, I left the house secure in the knowledge that tomorrow I could sleep in and cope with 5 days of pent up pain and frustration.

It wasn’t until I was already hobbling in the general direction of my office that the true significance of this particular choice hit me. My life is a series of obscure metaphors and bizarre happenstance, and just like the mediocre fun my witty little shirt advertises, I too travel very slowly down stairs.


I’m also fun for girls and boys, but that’s an entirely different post.

Lessons Learned

If I ever get it in my screwed up head to become a normal, social adult I want you to poke me in the eye so I can begin my new life as the pirate I know I've always been meant to be. The eye patch will go real nice-like with my wooden leg and crutch. Ok, so it's not a wooden leg, per se; but I can't move it and I'm prety sure there are termites.

First game of the season, first hit of the season (and it was a great one, by the way) and first mind-numbingly painful cockup. I decided against buying the oh so fashionable kleats thinking the crappy place we practice must be the same as the nicer place where the games are. I ran, slid, bopped around trying to regain my balance without landing on my bad knee tearing 3" of skin off my good knee in the process, made a spectacular popping noise and ended up sprawled on the ground feeling really shitty for cussing in front of coworkers' children.

I sprained my knee and added a slight tear where the previous damage was. It could have been a helluva lot worse, so I'm slightly okay with it. Oddly enough, the most pain comes from the skinned knee (it's really more of a scalping of the knee, there's that much gone) and hobbling about on crutches in a hoppy sort of way that makes the crunchy bits on the scrape crinkle and crack and hurt like a mofo.